


The Monkey's Valet

by VampireNaomi



Category: Kim Possible (Cartoon)
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Original Character(s), Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 23:18:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 120,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7457587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampireNaomi/pseuds/VampireNaomi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bates hated to admit it, but it looked like Lord Fiske was going insane. Originally written in 2008.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I originally wrote on FF.Net in 2008. I'm tweaking the grammar and a few other details and reposting it here since I'm in the slow process of archiving some of my older stories on AO3.
> 
> If you want to see fanart based on this fanfic, the following posts include some amazing artwork by spicyweasel:
> 
> http://simian-archives.livejournal.com/5143.html
> 
> http://simian-archives.livejournal.com/6207.html
> 
> http://simian-archives.livejournal.com/23773.html

“Bates, I think I will travel to Congo.”

Bates didn’t lift his eyes from the tea he was serving, but if he had, he would have seen his master sitting in a comfortable armchair, wearing the new smoking jacket good old Aunt Clarissa had sent for Christmas and gazing absent-mindedly at the large portrait above the fireplace. 

He put down the teapot. 

“Truly, milord? What for?”

Lord Monty Fiske reached out to take a cup, but he didn’t drink. There was a small smile playing on his lips, an expression that Bates had often seen mirrored on the face of the man’s late father. He couldn’t help glancing up to the portrait, but the man he saw there had not been smiling when it had been painted. 

“I was doing research for the museum when I came across an old text about four mystical monkey statues that, according to legend, can give whoever possesses them enormous power. That is rubbish, of course, but there is practically nothing known about the culture that created them, and I think they would make a marvellous addition to the museum’s collection,” Fiske replied. 

“Ah, monkeys,” Bates said. That was another thing the father and the son shared and something he couldn’t say he understood. Though the younger Fiske had not chosen to follow his father’s footsteps as a zoologist, he had the same fascination with everything simian.

“Indeed,” Fiske said, finally tasting the tea.

“I will make the proper arrangements, milord.”

“I trust you will be accompanying me, then?” Fiske asked, though they both knew the answer already. 

“Of course.”

His family had served the Fiskes for as long as they could trace back their history. The earliest records that talked about the Fiske family also mentioned their faithful servants, and there had been no disruptions in the lines over the centuries. A Fiske was always accompanied by a Bates. 

Maybe that was why it felt so fitting that the two of them would probably bring this tradition to the end together. Bates’s wife had died before they had had any children, and he was now past his prime, and Lord Fiske had never shown any desire to settle down and start a family. It was a pity and Bates was certain that their fathers would have frowned upon them, but this arrangement of living alone with Lord Fiske had become such a normal routine that he couldn’t imagine anything else.

“Good. I have already talked with the curator. We’ll travel next week once we’re done with the arrangements of that Nubian exhibition,” Fiske said. He rose from the chair and walked over to the large window that gave them a view of the open landscape around the castle. There wasn’t a single soul to be seen outside, and while it was a rare sunny day for that time of the year, it didn’t make their empty surroundings any more cheerful. 

That was one thing that Bates immensely disliked about the old castle. He enjoyed the buzz of people and conversation around him, but the Fiske castle was located a fine distance away from the nearest town, leaving him and his master in almost complete isolation. The valet thought he faired rather well and his trips to the town contributed greatly to that effect, but he was sometimes worried that his master couldn’t take the loneliness quite as well. 

Lord Fiske was a hard-working nature, and whenever he set his mind on something, he wouldn’t have peace until he had achieved his goal, no matter the cost or strain. For most of his life, this quality had worked in his favour and let him become a respected archaeologist and expert on everything simian at a relatively young age, but as he grew older, the stress of being so passionate about something was starting to take its toll. His smiles had become rarer, and he spent more and more time alone, too captivated by his research to notice the real world around him.

Bates was of the opinion that a holiday in some warm and sunny resort would have done wonders for his master, but Lord Fiske was very stubborn in that regard, only travelling when there was work, and thus he never got any rest. Despite this, Bates was happy to hear that they would be going to Congo. Africa had always been close to Lord Fiske’s heart and he always seemed a little happier and more relaxed there. 

“Have you already discovered the location of the statues?” he asked.

Fiske tore his eyes from the window to glance at him over his shoulder. “According to my research, the statues were separated and moved to hidden temples around the world. The first one should be somewhere in the Congolese jungles.”

“We’re going exploring, then,” Bates guessed. He didn’t personally much care for that activity because it was exhausting, insects usually took a liking to him, and the fact that he couldn’t keep their clothes spotless or cook a good meal every day was unnatural to him. His master liked it, though, which was why the valet endured the experience, even if he had to voice his opinion every now and then. 

Fiske chuckled. “Yes. This time you should remember that bringing along a full saucepan set is not the most productive of ideas.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, milord,” Bates replied, not allowing himself to be pulled in to the joke.

“Do lighten up, Bates,” Fiske remarked from the window and turned completely around. “When was the last time we set foot into the uninhabited thickness?”

“I believe it was last May when you discovered that buried temple and almost broke your arm, milord.” Bates picked up the tea service to take it away.

“Ah, yes. That was a funny little adventure, wasn’t it?” 

“If I may be so bold, I’d ask you to be more careful next time. Finding these mystical monkey statues is hardly worth that much trouble,” Bates said as he prepared leaving for the kitchen.

“I suppose you’re correct,” Lord Fiske replied, but he did it in such a carefree and reassuring way that Bates knew his master wasn’t being serious. He sighed inwardly as he exited the room and closed the door behind him. Something was telling him that this trip would be just like all the others; endless problems and looking after Lord Fiske when he got so excited about something that he forgot to be careful. 

In that one regard, he supposed his master would never grow up.

***

“These beasts must have acquired a taste for cranberry jam,” Bates said as he tried to shoo a dozen mosquitoes away from his face, but they always came back in a blink and filled his ears with intolerable buzzing.

“Good. We ate the last of it this morning, so we shouldn’t have to worry about them tomorrow,” Lord Fiske replied from ahead of him.

Bates only grunted at that and let his hand fall to his side, realising that there was nothing he could do about the constant bother but accept it. He looked enviously at his master who didn’t seem affected by the insect bites at all. Lord Fiske could be a very impatient man sometimes, but when it came to something he was passionate about, he could endure anything. 

The jungle around them was thick with undergrowth and the trees didn’t let much sunlight through, leaving them in constant dimness. They had left the latest village almost a week ago and had travelled south, deep into the jungle. Apart from the mosquitoes, their journey had been rather uneventful, even boring, though they had encountered a group of chimps but hadn’t had the time to take a closer look at them. 

Bates thought longingly back to the simple beds they had been offered in the village. He hadn’t thought much of them back then, but now he would have given anything to be back there instead of here where it was hot, where he was being eaten alive and where every part of his body ached and was covered in sweat. 

“How far do you think we still have to go?” he asked.

“Not far, I suppose. We already passed the marker stone that was mentioned in my papers.” 

Though his master had to be tired as well, Bates couldn’t detect any wariness in his voice. The man’s quality to be so cheerful when facing trouble was only equalled by the dry frustration that always took over him when he encountered a disappointment. Bates could imagine that if they didn’t find the monkey statue, the trip back home would become even more bothersome with Lord Fiske sulking to himself.

“That was two days ago, milord,” he pointed out. 

“Well, the map was drawn by a Belgian general who was also a habitual drunkard. We can’t expect it to be very accurate.”

Bates grumbled something about how the two of them were getting too old for this kind of misadventures, but as much as he would have rather been anywhere else, he was glad for the fact that his master was finally having fun again. For almost the entire past year, Lord Fiske had been busy dealing with the bureaucracy of the British Museum and some nations that were demanding them to give back the treasures that had been taken from them in the past. 

“It is a difficult situation,” Fiske had told him one evening. “Our fathers did steal them and destroyed quite a lot of local culture in the process, but the museum cannot afford to give them back. Then everyone would start demanding their own, and where would that leave us?” 

Bates didn’t even pretend that he knew anything about the morals connected to archaeology, so he hadn’t taken any stance on the issue, merely remarked something about how he was certain the situation would resolve itself soon enough. 

“I suggested that we could borrow the items and give the original owners a small sum in compensation, but I don’t think anyone will be happy with that. Having them at the museum is a matter of status for us, and for the Nigerians they’re an essential part of their identity,” Fiske had blabbered on, tapping his chin with his pipe and not caring that Bates wasn’t actively taking part in the conversation.

These stressful matters had had a part in that Lord Fiske had been more tired than usual for the past few months, but there was no evident sign of that now. He was striding on with long confident steps, forcing the shorter Bates to hurry up and never giving him enough time to catch his breath. The valet hadn’t seen his master frown or stare into distance even once after they had set foot on African soil.

“Then what if he imagined the whole thing?” he asked, referring to the map. 

“Hardly possible, as d’Hert was not an expert on anything but drink and how to best ruin his family’s reputation. His description of the statue, however, is quite vivid, so he must have seen it himself,” Lord Fiske said. 

“What if it’s not there anymore? Anyone could have gone and taken it.”

“We’ll see that in a minute,” Fiske said, and at first Bates thought it was merely a counter comment, but then he saw what his master had already spotted. About fifty feet away from them stood something that looked like a small hill at the first glance but was in actuality a small shrine, so covered in vines and ferns that it was almost impossible to detect. A massive tree had broken through one wall with its roots.

It didn’t look like a very promising sight to Bates. Even if the statue was still inside, their chances of finding it and bringing it out were rather slim. He glanced at his master, but Lord Fiske’s face showed none of his own doubts. Instead, he was staring at the temple with the excitement of a child, and Bates had to shake his head. Sometimes he thought Fiske’s passion bordered on insanity. 

“It doesn’t look like it’ll be safe to enter it. The temple could collapse any minute,” he observed. 

“Nonsense. It has stood here for centuries, it’s not going to fall now. And besides, the undergrowth that has penetrated it is also supporting the walls.”

“I’m not sure about that. I still think it’s too dangerous.”

“Now, which one of us had that degree in archaeology again, Bates?”

“My apologies,” Bates said, giving in under the annoyed glare of his master’s blue eyes. Knowing that it was impossible to talk with Lord Fiske at a moment like this, he stepped back and slipped his bag of his shoulders, grunting in relief at the lifted weight. He stretched his aching back and wondered how many similar escapades it could take. 

The jungle was a bit more open near the temple so they had a clear view of the sky which was already showing brushes of yellow and orange. Bates knew it wouldn’t take more than a couple of hours before they were engulfed by darkness, so he started building a camp and preparing something to eat while Lord Fiske inspected the temple. 

He was so caught up in these mundane tasks that he failed to keep a proper eye on what his master was doing, so he did a surprised jump when he suddenly heard his name being called out. He turned towards the temple, but Lord Fiske was nowhere in sight.

“Milord? Where are you?” he asked as he got up on his feet and walked to the temple. He could see that vines had been moved out of the way and that a curiously shaped doorway had been revealed. Half of it lay collapsed, but with disdain he measured that the hole inside was big enough for his master to crawl through. 

“I decided to take a look inside. Hand me a torch, will you?” came a voice from inside the temple. A few moments later, Fiske appeared.

“Right away, milord,” Bates said, but he couldn’t quite keep the irritated tone down. Lord Fiske could have at least told him what he had been up to. What if the temple had, or would collapse? He shouldn’t have entered it before they had secured it properly.

If Fiske noticed how annoyed his servant was, he said nothing about it. He took the electric torch into his eagerly awaiting hands and crawled back inside, leaving Bates alone again. The valet eyed the temple warily, only now noticing that it was built into the shape of a monkey’s head. 

What a thrill it must be for him, he thought dryly. Monkeys and archaeology together! 

“Do you see anything, milord?”

Fiske’s voice sounded muffled as he replied, “I think I’ve found some ancient death traps, but they seem to be out of order because of the damage. My, I think this poison is still lethal! Fascinating!”

“Please be careful,” Bates said.

Though he called out again, there was no answer for the next fifteen minutes, and for a brief moment Bates thought his master had discovered a trap that did work after all these years, but his fears were put to rest when a triumphant cry reached his ears. 

“I found it!”

“Do you need help?” Bates asked and peered into the monkey’s mouth. He could see the faint light of a torch in the distance, and he didn’t feel very confident about stepping in. 

“No, I think I can take care of this myself,” Fiske replied from the depths of the temple. 

He emerged a few moments later, dragging something large and heavy behind him. Bates offered a hand and together they got the statue out. Fiske pointed the light of the torch at it.

“Marvellous, isn’t it?”

“Quite,” Bates said, though he wasn’t very impressed by the statue and the mad smile on its face. It didn’t look like very valuable or special to him, and he could easily imagine similar ones being sold at every tourist attraction all over Africa. 

“It was a stroke of luck that the traps were out of order, or getting this would have been very difficult,” Fiske said. He was covered in dirt and scratches all over, but he was wearing an almost goofy grin as he looked at the statue, as if it was the greatest achievement of his life. 

“And the museum will be interested in this?” Bates asked doubtfully. 

“As soon as I’m done researching it, I’m sure they will.”

They moved to the camp Bates had built, and the valet made a small fire. He was still annoyed by that his master had gone ahead and taken needless risks without telling him about it, so he kept silent as he started boiling water for them. Fiske didn’t seem bothered by this, and his attention was completely captured by the grinning statue.

After a while, the silence started getting on Bates’s nerves. He was used to Lord Fiske babbling away and boring everyone to death with historical details whenever he discovered something, and this unnatural sulking made his irritation turn into worry.

“Is there something wrong, milord?”

Fiske hesitated for a moment and then replied, “When I was inside, I noticed something odd about the statue.” 

“What, milord?” 

Fiske rubbed his chin, never turning his eyes away from the subject of their conversation. “I don’t know. It was almost as if there was someone else there, or maybe something, and for a moment I thought our friend here was watching me.”

“Your senses must have played a trick on you. Maybe this will make you reconsider your cousin’s offer about that weekend at his seaside manor,” Bates said. He eyed his master carefully, wondering if it was possible that he was cracking under the stress. 

Lord Fiske chuckled at that. “I’m afraid spending more than a minute with Cecil would drive me insane.” 

Bates could agree with that, but he didn’t want to start a discussion that would make him say anything negative about a member of the family.

“What was the myth about this statue again? That it could give you some Magical Monkey Power?” he asked. 

“Mystical Monkey Power,” Fiske corrected him. He turned his eyes back to the statue, frowning to himself. “Mystical Monkey Power,” he said again, lowering his voice in thought.

Bates said nothing, but he found that his eyes were also drawn to the statue, and for a moment he could only watch as the flickering fire made shadows dance on the monkey’s face.


	2. Chapter 2

“Bates, I think I will have to do more research about this.”

Bates glanced warily at the monkey statue on Lord Fiske’s desk as he entered the room. They had returned from Congo the week before, and his master had spent his every waking hour in his study ever since. The desk around the statue was covered in scattered books, most of them open with a page that Fiske had marked for further reading. 

He had asked himself countless times what could be so interesting about one simple statue, but he hadn’t managed to say it out loud. Lord Fiske was always touchy about his work and didn’t like to be questioned or criticized about it. 

Bates cleared his throat. “Mr Graves has arrived,” he announced. 

Lord Fiske finally lifted his head and tore his eyes from a thick volume he had been hunched over. His eyes blinked at Bates in surprise. 

“Already? I thought he wasn’t supposed to arrive until noon.”

“It is already quarter past twelve, milord.” 

Lord Fiske turned to look at the massive grandfather clock in the corner. “My, you’re correct. How time flies.” Slowly, as if he was reluctant to do so, he got up and stretched his back. “Tell him that I will be with him shortly.”

“Very well,” Bates said. He exited the study and returned to the main hall where their guest was still waiting. 

“Lord Fiske will accompany you in a minute, sir,” he said and Graves turned around, taking his attention away from the painting he had been looking at. 

Jonathan Graves was not a tall man, and with his pale complexion and greyish brown hair he looked like the kind of a person that one could forget the moment one had stopped talking with him. However, if one did start a conversation with him, one always realised that looks could be deceiving. 

“This painting,” Graves said and pointed at the picture of two monkeys, “it wouldn’t be one of de Kooning’s lesser known works, would it?” He had a low booming voice that usually made people glance around, wondering if there was someone else who was actually talking, when they first met him. 

“I’m afraid not, sir. Lord Fiske acquired it some years ago, but it has no monetary value,” Bates replied. 

Graves shrugged. “Ah, what a pity. I was already looking forward to discussing it. I do like Dutch art.”

“May I lead you to the lounge, sir?”

“Right, of course. We wouldn’t want to keep Lord Fiske waiting,” Graves replied and followed Bates out of the hall. 

The lounge was still empty when they arrived, and Bates directed Graves to a chair that offered him a view to the windows. Lord Fiske always liked to sit where he could see the rows of books and the paintings on the walls. 

“It has been a while since I last visited. I see good old Monty has added some new items to his collection,” Graves observed as he turned around to take a look at the paintings. 

“Yes, he recently discovered a promising young artist whose work he enjoys very much,” Bates replied. 

“Really? Then I would very much like to meet this young talent myself.” 

“Now, Jonathan, you can’t expect me to reveal all my secrets,” Fiske’s voice interrupted their conversation. 

Lord Fiske had spent the past few moments well, changing into more formal attire and managing to tame his hair, which had the habit of getting unruly and ruffled if he let it go without attention for a moment. Bates was briefly reminded of the constant battles Fiske had had about it with his mother in the past.

Graves chuckled. “You really shouldn’t keep all the good leads to yourself. You aren’t the only one who likes this style.” 

“All is fair in scavenging art,” Fiske replied as he took a seat. “Bates, would you get us some tea?”

“At once, milord,” Bates said. He left the two men alone and headed for the kitchen, wondering what would come of this day. Despite their friendly chit chat, Lord Fiske and Mr Graves weren’t friends, only acquaintances, and his master was never in a pleasant mood after one of the man’s visits.

Jonathan Graves worked for the museum and was one of their biggest benefactors, which gave him the right to stick his nose into matters that wouldn’t have been his business otherwise. He had made his fortune with stocks in the 80’s, one reason Bates had his doubts about him. Though he knew it was an old-fashioned world view, he couldn’t help looking down his nose at the nouveau riche, especially if they liked to pretend they came from a better background. 

When he was done with the tea and was taking it to the men, he hesitated a brief moment at the door. He didn’t want to interrupt them in case they were in the middle of something important or something that wasn’t meant for anyone else, so he knocked before pushing the door open. 

“I understand your point perfectly, but it doesn’t change the fact that we cannot simply throw them out and not listen to their demands,” Lord Fiske was saying, a frustrated edge already having crept into his voice. His knuckles were white from clutching the arm rest of the chair.

“Then what do you suggest we do? They have made it clear that they won’t back away before we’ve given them the Omaba Throne, so unless we take some drastic measures, we will never get rid of them!” Graves insisted. 

Bates suppressed a sigh as the topic of their debate became clear to him. It was again about the Nigerians who demanded the treasures of their ancestors be returned to them. It truly was a difficult matter since nobody at the museum wanted to give in to their demands, but they couldn’t stain their public image by shutting their doors to their face. 

“The Omaba Throne is not even on display at the moment. We could sell it to them,” Fiske remarked. 

“And then what? There would be more demands. The Egyptians have been on our backs for decades, and you know quite as well as I do that it’s impossible to give back their treasures. It would be suicidal for the museum,” Graves insisted. 

“We are all aware of these facts which is why I don’t understand why you think it’s productive to come here to remind me of them. I don’t make these decisions.”

Bates cleared his throat to alert the men to his presence, but it did little to cool off their debate, so he decided to simply serve the tea and pretend that he wasn’t even there. Graves didn’t react to a tea cup being placed in front of him, but Lord Fiske offered his valet a grateful glance. 

“You’re their little golden boy, so they will listen to you. We all know that we can’t start handing out museum artefacts like they were sweets, but somebody has to be the first to say it,” Graves said. 

“To me it sounds like you’re doing a marvellous job at it already,” Fisk said as he dropped half a spoonful of sugar into his tea. Bates had decided to serve them Assam since Earl Grey was more suitable for tea time in the afternoon.

“You know what I’m talking about, Monty. They won’t listen to me because I have no royal title and because my ancestors worked in the mines. But they will listen to you,” Graves said. He was sitting stiffly in his chair, like his spine was one straight pole incapable of bending, and his cheeks were flushed with the redness of anger. Only now did he notice his tea cup, and he took a fast sip, grimacing as the drink burnt his throat. 

“I must admit I was hoping that I could stay away from this matter. There is no way to find a decision that would make everyone happy,” Fiske said. 

“Then let’s do what will make _us_ happy and make sure we get to keep the throne,” Graves said. That was the last full sentence Bates could hear before he exited the room, though he thought he could hear such words as bad conscience, imperialism and slavery echo on the hallways of the castle as he retreated into the kitchen. He knew Lord Fiske would join in the shouting in a minute, being the impatient man he was, and Bates had no desire to be a witness to such a burst.

Once in his sanctuary, he shook his head to himself. What could have been a rather pleasant day had been ultimately ruined by Graves’s visit and his insistence on keeping what was the museum’s own. The valet couldn’t understand what the point of arguing about the matter even was. If Lord Fiske was correct, nobody in the museum even cared about the old throne and they were only hanging onto it on principle. 

About half an hour later, he heard his master and Graves move to the main hall, a sign that their guest would be leaving. Bates decided to go and pick up the tea service, and he passed the two men on his way. 

“I must apologize for some of the things I just said. I’m afraid my anger got the better of me,” Graves was saying.

“Nonsense, it was I who should have watched his words more carefully,” Fiske replied. 

Both men sounded like they could barely keep their hands off each other’s throats, and Bates again wondered why they even bothered to exchange such needless pleasantries. He was just about to continue on his way when he heard Graves change the subject. 

“Say, I hear you acquired something interesting on your recent trip to Congo.”

Bates expected his master to start an enthusiastic rant about how marvellous the monkey statue was and how he had spent the past week researching it and the mystical culture that had created it. Even his dislike for Graves wouldn’t stop him from sharing something he loved so much. 

“Hardly. The statue I brought back is utterly uninteresting in every way. It’s common and mediocre, not worthy of anyone’s time.”

Bates lifted his eyebrows in surprise as he heard his master’s dismissive words. That couldn’t have been any further away from the truth, and he couldn’t imagine why Lord Fiske would lie to Graves like that.

“Pity. I was already looking forward to hearing you tell me about it. But I guess even the best of us miss a spot sometimes,” their guest replied as he placed his hat on his head and nodded as goodbye. At the door he turned back once more and said, “I wish you would consider my words. We are on the same side, after all.”

“What an intolerable man!” Lord Fiske huffed to himself when the front door had banged shut. “How come we keep letting him in, Bates?” 

Bates coughed as he realised that his eavesdropping had been noticed. “My apologies. I was just on my way to take away the tea service, milord.”

“No matter,” Lord Fiske said with a lazy wave of his hand.

“Milord, if I may wonder… why did you not tell him the truth about the monkey statue?” Bates asked. 

His master took a moment to answer, but it was enough to tell Bates that Lord Fiske was not comfortable sharing his thoughts even with him. They had never had massive secrets from each other, and Bates couldn’t help feeling just a tad bothered by that his master was now keeping details of his work away from him. 

“I think I have discovered something significant, and I don’t want Jonathan to know about it, at least not now,” Lord Fiske replied. As he spoke, he walked past Bates, and the valet assumed he was expected to follow. They entered Fiske’s study where everything was exactly like the man had left it earlier. 

Fiske patted the monkey statue’s head in an almost fatherly way before taking an old book into his hands. He flipped through a few pages until he found what he was looking for and showed it to Bates. 

“Do you know what this is?” Fiske asked and pointed at a sketch of a man in the middle of some martial arts move. 

“I’m no expert, but it looks like monkey kung fu.” It was another oddity that Lord Fiske had picked up from his father who had been fascinated by the art and taught it to his son from a very early age. The old Fiske had had many arguments about it with his wife who had thought it was bad form to teach their son how to fight like that. 

“Yes, Tai Shing Pek Kwar,” Fiske confirmed. Just as Bates was about to ask what it had to do with anything, his master continued, “I found some new notes about the statues and it turns out that they were created by a tribe of warriors who were masters of the art. They believed the statues gave them access to a mystical power, but for some reason they were separated and hidden to different locations.”

Bates spent a few seconds taking this in and looked at the picture in the book again. “This power, it had merely some ritual value, right?”

“Probably,” Fiske admitted slowly. “But wouldn’t it be magnificent if it was real? Can you imagine what someone who is a master of Tai Shing Pek War could reach with that kind of power?” 

All of a sudden, Bates noted how Lord Fiske was towering over him and looking at him with eyes wide with excitement and wonder. The smile on his master’s face made Bates shift uneasily; it was a rare occasion that Fiske got that excited about anything, even his work. 

“Well, yes,” he offered uncertainly, though he had trouble understanding what practical value such power could have. What would one be able to do with it anyway? 

Lord Fiske closed his book with a sigh. “Of course, we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves. Too little is known about the statues, and we still need the remaining three if we want to find out more about the legend.”

“From a purely academic perspective, am I right?” Bates asked. The way Lord Fiske was speaking like he truly believed in this nonsense was unsettling, and he felt the need to feel confirmed that he wasn’t taking it seriously. 

His master smiled reassuringly. “But of course. This is the 21st century, Bates. What do you take me for?”

Bates allowed himself a small sigh of relief, though he still didn’t feel completely at ease regarding the statue. There was just… something about it that he didn’t like. 

“Are you going to pursue the other tree statues, milord?” he asked, hoping for a negative answer. 

“But of course! This is a fascinating subject that requires much further study. Once I have discovered a sufficient amount of information, I will tell the museum about my findings. Until that, I would like to keep everything about these statues to between you and me,” Lord Fiske replied. 

“As you wish, milord.”

He had been hoping that Lord Fiske would find a new hobby to occupy himself with, but he had been thinking more along the lines of bridge, or maybe polo. These statues had just made things worse.

"But I must say I am somewhat glad that Jonathan chose to interrupt us at this time," Fiske talked on, ignoring the fact that the man had had an appointment. "Who knows how much time would have passed otherwise without my notice?"

"Is there something specific you wish to do?" Bates asked. Lord Fiske wasn't expected anywhere that day, and it was rare of him to do anything but read or practise his martial arts skills in his free time.

"Yes. I need to compile a list of reading material that I must acquire. I'm afraid my own library is somewhat lacking when it comes to the statues, so I need to contact my bookseller in London and have him deliver what I need," Fiske explained. As he spoke, he glanced at his stuffed bookcases, as if already re-organizing them in his mind to make room for the new additions.

"Maybe we should travel there, milord," Bates suggested. It was a while since they had been in London, and he was certain that the massive city would improve his master's mood a little and remind him that no matter how fascinating the statues were, there was also a real world out there.

Lord Fiske seemed to consider it for a moment. "I _would_ like to talk to Basil again," he contemplated, referring to the man who had provided him and also his father with all the books they had ever needed. He clasped his hands behind his back as he made his decision. "But it's too late to go today. I'll ring Basil and ask if he has any of the books I need, and we'll go pick them up tomorrow."

***

And so the next day they found themselves in front of a small and dusty book store that stood hunched between a flower shop and a store that specialised in curtains for children's bedrooms. It looked like the two colourful buildings on its sides were in the middle of suffocating it. A small sign with faint letters proudly pronouncing that the store had been in business since 1732 was nailed above the door that looked like it was in dire need of a new coat of paint.

To a passer-by the bleak store seemed like any second-rate used books dealer not worth stepping into, but everyone who was into old books knew that Basil Hawthorne's place was the best of its kind in London. Somehow, the old man was always able to find copies of even the rarest books and usually in good condition as well, and there was no book whose title, author, year of publication or page number he didn't know by heart, unless it was something published after 1920.

A tingle from the bell above the door announced their arrival, but the store seemed to be completely devoid of any life. Rows and rows of filled bookcases straining under the weight of ancient volumes covered almost every spot in the store, leaving room only for thin corridors that created a slithering labyrinth of books leading into the depths of the shop.

Bates glanced around, wondering where the curious old man was. The valet had been in this store numerous times in the past, and Hawthorne was almost always behind his desk, either reading some old volume that nobody knew even existed or polishing his enormous goggles from the dust that everything in the store seemed to attract.

"I wonder if he forgot we were coming," he pointed out to Lord Fiske, but his master didn't seem bothered. He was standing as straight as he could with a fascinated smile glued on his face, and it looked like he had tremendous trouble keeping his hands to himself and resisting the urge of rushing into the maze of bookcases and spending the rest of the day hunting for lost treasures.

"I doubt it," Fiske replied as he finally gave in to his temptation and picked up a thin book from the nearest shelf. He started leafing through it gently, barely touching the pages with his fingertips.

Bates let his master concentrate on this delightful activity and took another look around the store. It hadn't changed any since he had last been there, but he suspected that was to be expected. Little spots like this were those few places in the modern world where it felt like time had stopped and you could forget your busy schedule, even for a moment. This was exactly what Lord Fiske needed.

The sound of nearing footsteps alerted them both to the presence of another soul, and Lord Fiske put the book back on the shelf. The door behind the counter flew open, and a very tall and thin man, looking more like a stick figure than human, stumbled up the stairs that led to the basement.

"My apologies," he said as he adjusted his glasses. "Every time I climb up those stairs it takes longer than the last."

"No worries. We aren't in a hurry. How have you been, Basil?" Lord Fiske asked as he offered the old man a pleasant smile.

Hawthorne brushed some dust off his bald head and shrugged. "Oh, fine, fine. And you?"

"Couldn't be better."

"Lovely." Hawthorne closed the door and took a seat by the counter. "My joints don't like the draft and some mornings I don't feel like getting up at all. But what truly pains me is Jack, you remember my grandson, of course. No passion for helping me at the store, none at all! All he cares about are those blasted video games that rot your brain and drain the spirit out of you."

"I'm sad to hear that. The youth today have no understanding of the value of true academia," Lord Fiske said sympathetically. Hawthorne had something bad to say about his grandson every time they visited the store, but Bates knew there was no real malice behind it. He had talked that same way about his son back when he had used to stop by with Lord Fiske's father.

"Quite, quite. You were a clever one not to have children. Hm, hm, now, didn't you ring me about a book?" 

Fiske's expression brightened at the reminder of the reason of their visit. "Yes, there are a few books that interest me. You said you might have them."

Hawthorne rummaged through the pockets of his brown vest and pulled out several pieces of yellow paper. He dumped them all on the counter and started going through them, one by one, all the while muttering the names of the books to himself.

"Hunting Lions and Unicorns in Spain. No, I doubt it was that one. The Truth behind Wagner's Lost Opera. Weaving Music. Hmm..."

Lord Fiske glanced at the notes and pointed at one. "What's this? The Curse of Monkey Island?"

Hawthorne snorted in contempt. "It's just some idiotic computer game. Jack asked me to track down the strategy guide for him. Those are the only books he collects."

"Ah," Fiske said, frowning in visible disappointment.

"Here we go!" Hawthorne cried triumphantly and lifted the correct note above his head. "The Mystical Simian Cultures of the Far East and Journals of Count Henri DuBois. You read French, don't you?"

"I can manage," Fiske replied. Though his field of expertise in languages mostly consisted of old African and Asian tongues, Bates suspected that his master's determination would allow him to learn the whole French grammar in a day if so needed.

"Excellent. I have the books downstairs, so just wait one moment," Hawthorne said as he slipped the notes back into his pocket.

"Maybe I should -" Bates offered, remembering how long it had taken for the man to get up the stairs the first time, but Hawthorne cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"Nonsense, nonsense. The day I can't maintain my own store is the day I'm ready to die," he said and staggered down the creaky stairs.

Fiske cast an amused glance at his valet. "You still haven't learnt that the only way to handle Basil is to let him have his way, have you?"

"Pardon me for wanting to help," Bates muttered, though he supposed his master had a point. If there was one thing he had learnt during his long years as a valet, it was that it was easier to let stubborn people simply do what they wanted if it was so important to them. It applied to Lord Fiske as well, especially in recent years.

"Righto, I have your books here, your Lordship! And I brought them up with no help from your manservant. These young people, they think they can do everything better than us, isn't it?" Hawthorne said as he emerged from the basement.

"I believe Bates is actually my senior," Fiske replied.

Hawthorne's eyebrows rose up to his forehead and then he slapped himself. "Oh, of course. Silly me. For a moment I thought I was speaking to your father. See what years can do to a man." He shook his head, smiling slightly at himself as he placed the two books on the counter in front of Fiske.

"Yes, these are exactly what I was looking for," Fiske said as he ran his finger up and down the cover of the first book, the one in which Count DuBois told about his travels. His eyes were shining with the excitement that Bates had learnt to see on his face whenever he was about to discover something that fascinated him.

"At first I thought I didn't have them. People don't usually come around asking for books like this, I'll have you know. I had to stay up half the night rummaging through my shelves to find these for you," Hawthorne said, emphasising his words by stretching his back.

"I hope it wasn't too much trouble," Fiske said, but he was barely looking at the old man anymore, too captivated by his new books. Bates took this moment to pay for the purchase. It would take them several hours to get back to the castle, and that was if they didn't end up caught in traffic. He wanted to get the trip started.

"Say, what do you need the books for? I don't think these are going to be very useful in your line of work. I took a look at them, and they're mostly some gibberish about magic and the sort," Hawthorne said as he counted the bills. Part of the image of his store was that he didn't accept credit cards.

"Oh, it's just a hobby. Something to amuse myself with," Lord Fiske said with a smile and reluctantly let Bates wrap the books into brown paper to protect them from the rain outside.

***

It was already getting dark when they returned to the castle, and Bates's back was complaining to him about having spent the entire day sitting and driving the car. He was more than eager to go straight to bed after making sure Lord Fiske had everything he needed.

"Would you like me to prepare something for you, milord?"

"No, that won't be necessary. I'll just take a quick look at these books before bed," his master replied. He walked past Bates and entered his study, closing the door behind and leaving Bates alone in the hall. There was no work to be done, so the valet decided that it was time for sleep.

His back had different plans for him, however, and he spent the next few hours tossing around in his bed and trying to get some sleep, but to no avail. When he heard a distant clock chime three in the morning, he sighed to himself and decided to get up and take a walk around the dark corridors of the castle. Maybe some exercise would help.

The Fiske castle was not a place that invited one for a pleasant nightly stroll, but Bates had lived there his entire life and was used to the ghastly pictures of monkeys that filled every wall, and the long and high corridors didn't strike fear in his heart either. At most he felt slightly uneasy, but only when he reached a part of the castle that hadn't been used in a long while, such as the nursery that was still filled with most of Lord Fiske's old toys. There had never been any need to move them out since the Fiskes hadn't been fortunate enough to have another child and his master didn't seem interested in continuing the line.

When he passed the door to Lord Fiske's study, he noticed that there was light pouring from under it. Bates shook his head to himself and decided that since he was already up, the least he could do was make some tea and bring it to Lord Fiske. The man's idea of a quick look had again turned out to mean what most people called the entire night.

He started boiling water and quickly whipped some leftover cake and sandwiches to go with it, just to make sure his master didn't starve to death while doing his research. A few moments later he was knocking at the door to Lord Fiske's study. There was no reply, but he entered nevertheless, assuming that he simply hadn't been heard. He found Fiske sitting behind his desk, hunched over the French book he had bought. There were two dictionaries, one French to English and one French, scattered on the desk where he could reach them whenever he needed help with his translation.

"Maybe you should rest for a moment, milord," Bates suggested as he put down the tray with the tea service.

"Mm-hm, in a minute, Bates," Lord Fiske muttered absent-mindedly, not turning his eyes away from the thick book he was reading. He was making notes with his other hand, but he didn't even glance at what he was writing.

Bates felt awkward for a moment. It was decades since he had last felt the need to tell Lord Fiske that it was time to go to bed, but all those occasions suddenly came back to him. He knew he couldn't very well say that to a grown man, but that didn't stop him from glancing warily at the hunched form of his master as he exited the room.

When he came back to pick up the tea service the next morning, he found Fiske asleep on top of his books, snoring slightly. The tea hadn't been even touched.


	3. Chapter 3

"Bates, I think I will go study in China."

"China, milord?" Bates repeated. "What for?"

Lord Fiske closed the book he had been reading and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms on his chest and frowning thoughtfully. He was chewing on his lip and taking a fine time answering his valet's question.

"I don't think my books can tell me anything new," he finally said. "If I want to know more about the statues, I must travel somewhere where they know more about Tai Shing Pek Kwar."

"Is that truly necessary? China is so far away," Bates said. In truth, he was more worried about the almost obsessive interest that Lord Fiske was showing in the statues and the legends behind them. A few weeks had now passed since they had discovered the first one, and there had been barely anything else on his master's mind.

First he had practically moved to live in his study where he did nothing but read and make notes about everything that could be connected to the statues in any way. Then he had made another visit to Basil's at the end of the week. Bates had been relieved to see Lord Fiske at least leave the castle and have a bit of fresh air, but then the man had brought back an armload of new books and continued the research.

"It is absolutely vital," Fiske said in sharp a tone that invited no further discussion of the issue.

"What about your work here? I thought you were supposed to have a series of lectures about the ancient cultures of the Bangladesh area."

"Correct, but I have already transferred all of that to someone else. They weren't happy about it, of course, but I cannot postpone this trip any further," Fiske said.

Bates sighed. "Very well, milord. I will make the arrangements right away."

"Excellent. If my estimation is correct, we will spend about two months there."

Bates froze. Had he heard that right? "Two months, milord?"

"Yes, is there a problem?"

Yes, there was, but Bates had the discipline not to snap his answer. It was one thing to go adventuring in the middle of nowhere for a week or two, but two months on the other side of the globe, away from their work, connections and friends sounded like an intolerable and scary thought. Bates enjoyed the feeling of familiarity and that everything worked according to a known schedule, and he knew there would be none of that security in China.

"Of course not, milord," he said reluctantly. What else could he have? He was paid for taking care of Lord Fiske's every need and it was his main responsibility in life. He couldn't just abandon the man, especially since there was no telling what kind of trouble his master would get himself into if he didn't have Bates as the voice of reason with him.

"What exactly will you be studying?" he dared to ask.

Fiske had already opened the book again and returned to reading it, assuming they were done with the conversation He lifted his eyes from the pages with a somewhat irritated scowl on his face.

"This and that. There are some people I would like to meet and if there's time, I'll try to brush up my martial arts a tad," he said. He made a great show of returning his attention to the book. Bates realised that he wouldn't be able to get anything else out of his master without risking angering him, so he made his way out of the room.

This is getting out of hand, he thought to himself. Two months in China and all because of those statues! No other hobby had ever caught Lord Fiske's attention like this and he had never before been so serious about it. All his previous interests, whether they were the portrayal of monkeys in 17th century academic literature or helping to make a documentary series about the golden-headed langur to bring the public's attention to saving its natural habitat, had taken up a considerable amount of effort and had cut Fiske off from normal life for a period of time, but this was different. Lord Fiske had seemed to enjoy those previous activities, but for the past week the most common expression on his face had been a deep frown.

Bates had tried asking if there was anything wrong and if he could perhaps do something, but Lord Fiske had merely replied that it was so infuriating when he could feel that the knowledge he needed was somewhere, but he had no access to it. Apparently, the books he had read could only offer second-hand descriptions and vague speculations.

"There is very little about the actual Mystical Monkey Power, but the authors have devoted pages upon pages on how the tribe lived and what their religion was like," Fiske had growled one evening.

That puzzled Bates. He thought that was exactly the kind of information his master should have been interested in. Having been raised by a devout believer in science, Lord Fiske had never shown any particular fascination for the supernatural, other than what was required when researching the beliefs of ancient people. This sudden desire to know everything about the mystical monkey statues was unlike anything he had ever done.

If it's a mid-life crisis, I do wish he'd rather start going out with ladies half his age, Bates thought dryly as he was walking to the phone. That at least could be considered normal and it would be altogether more pleasant for the both of them. He'd much rather serve tea to dashing socialites than go to China where he'd most likely end up following Lord Fiske around in muddy bamboo forests or icy mountains.

***

The evening before their planned travel was in no way different from countless others. Bates had lit a roaring fire in the fireplace in the lounge, and while the cackling of the flames was mostly buried under the steady drum of rain drops against the tall windows, the atmosphere was peaceful and cozy. Lord Fiske was sitting near the fire, dressed in his smoking jacket and occasionally taking a sip of his tea while reading a book. Bates had been happy to note that the book had nothing to do with the Mystical Monkey Power but was actually some clever new detective story Fiske had received from his cousin Cecil as a birthday present.

The valet himself had positioned himself a bit further away from the fire, but he was still close enough to feel the comforting warmth. He was currently writing a reply to one Mr Daniels saying that Lord Fiske would unfortunately not have the opportunity to accept his invitation to a dinner party later that month because he would be going to China for research purposes. Bates was glad that they had that excuse as he was certain that Lord Fiske would have refused anyway, solely because of his dislike for the man. On the other hand, his master still hadn't told him what he'd be researching or who these people he wanted to meet were, and it looked like the letter to Mr Daniels would end up becoming unfortunately vague.

He glanced over to where Lord Fiske was sitting. The man had been in a rather pleasant mood for the past few days, no doubt because of their trip. He had smiled a few times and not because of something related to the subject of his research – he had even cracked a joke when Bates had wondered how they'd manage with Chinese food.

I wish he'd stay like that, the valet thought to himself as he resumed his writing, frowning as his thoughts turned to different matters. Why did Lord Fiske insist on sending old-fashioned letters at this time and age anyway? They both knew how to use e-mail (though it had taken Fiske a while to wrap his mind around the concept) and Bates was certain that someone like Daniels wouldn't be happy to receive a late reply simply because it arrived by snail mail.

For a few more minutes, the dancing flames, rain drops, the scratching of his pen and the occasional chuckle from Lord Fiske filled the room, and for a moment Bates could forget that they were even going anywhere and pretend that the evening would never end. Then a shrill ring broke the spell and he almost fell of his chair in surprise.

"Bates, I believe that's the phone," Lord Fiske remarked without lifting his eyes from the book.

"Right... yes, milord," Bates muttered and hurried to his feet. He almost ran to the next room where the phone was and picked it up, wondering who it could be at such a late hour.

"The Fiske residence," he started, but he had barely got that done when a loud scream filled his ears from the other end of the line.

"William! Is that you?"

Very few people ever called him by his first name, so it took Bates a moment to catch his words and stutter his answer, "Yes, but who... Margaret?" Living with Lord Fiske and following him around on his adventures had taught Bates how to put himself together fast, so it took him only a second to recognise the voice of his sister.

"What's wrong?" he asked. He heard Margaret draw a shaky breath, and he could tell that she was crying and wasn't even trying to conceal the fact. That wasn't what worried him since his sister had always been full of emotions and not afraid of showing them, but what did bother him was that she was calling him in the middle of the night. Something had to be wrong.

"Thomas is dead!" Margaret cried and broke down in sobs, mumbling words that Bates had no hope of understanding.

"What? Dead? What happened?" he blurted out in shock and confusion. At first he couldn't get a coherent reply from his sister because of her crying, but after a moment she was able to say something about a car accident.

"Margaret, please calm down. I cannot understand what you're saying," he tried to hush, though he felt a little foolish doing so. Trying to comfort someone over the phone was quite awkward.

"He was taking his walk this afternoon and... and a car hit him! The driver didn't stop and nobody helped him and now he's dead! What am I going to do?" his sister wailed, making Bates cringe in sympathy. He couldn't quite yet wrap his mind around what had happened, but hearing his sister that hurt and upset was unsettling to say the least.

Not that he could blame her. He would never forget the shock he had felt when he had received word that his wife Nora had died, but that couldn't be anything like what Margaret was going through. Nora had been sick for years and everyone had known she wouldn't live for long, but Thomas had been healthy and strong. Bates had always assumed he would outlive his frail sister.

"Are you alone? Is there anyone with you?" he asked in worry.

Margaret sniffed. "Nancy from next door came over, but she can't stay forever. And what will I do with the inn now? I can't maintain it without Thomas... I can't do anything without him! Oh, William! What am I going to do?"

"Ah... Just calm yourself for now. I'll come over tomorrow and we'll see. It's going to be alright," he said. Even as he made the promise, he remembered that he was supposed to be on his way to China with Lord Fiske the next day, but he was barely thinking about that responsibility at the moment.

He finished talking with her after offering a few more comforting words and then hung up, sighing to himself and rubbing his face. He felt tired and numb all of a sudden. He couldn't believe that he had been relatively happy only a moment ago.

"Was it something important?" Lord Fiske asked as Bates returned to the lounge.

"My sister." 

"Margaret?" A smile appeared on Fiske's face as he turned his attention away from the book. "I remember her. Have I ever told you how she used to give me sweets if I didn't tell anyone that she kept running off to town to meet boys?"

"She just lost her husband," Bates said, and the smile on his master's face faded away as fast as it had appeared.

"Oh. I'm... terribly sorry to hear that. What happened?"

"She said he was hit by a car and that the driver simply fled the scene and left him to die."

"I say! Have they caught him yet?" Fiske said in an annoyed tone. The line of his mouth turned into a disapproving grimace, and Bates realised that Lord Fiske was showing more emotion about the accident than he was. He wondered if he was simply in shock or whether suppressing his own feelings in the man's service had made him forget how to express them.

"No, they haven't. Margaret sounded quite shocked on the phone," he said.

"Well, that's no surprise."

Bates knew what he had to say next, but he wasn't sure how to do it. It was a rare occurrence that he had to disappoint his master, and it wasn't easy even in this situation.

"Ah, milord?" he started.

"Yes?"

Bates cleared his throat and had to turn his eyes to the floor. "I promised Margaret that I would go to her first thing tomorrow. I don't think I will be able to accompany you on your trip," he said. He couldn't believe he was feeling guilty about saying that because he knew his sister's well-being should have been his first priority, but there was no denying the uneasy weight in his stomach.

When had Lord Fiske become the centre of his life like that?

He dared a glance up to his master and saw his face twisted in something between disappointment and regret, and for a split second Bates thought Fiske might say no. Then the man smiled.

"But of course, Bates. I couldn't ask you to follow me at a time like this," he said in a light tone that was so unsuitable for the moment that Bates knew Lord Fiske was immensely disappointed but had the sense not to complain.

"Thank you, and I'm sorry," he said.

Fiske closed his book and stood up, still having that awkward smile on his face. "Don't worry about it. This isn't your fault," he said. He slipped the book under his arm and walked past Bates. "I will be in my study if you need me."

Once alone, Bates sighed to himself and collapsed in the nearest chair, feeling more exhausted than he could remember in a long while. Thomas was gone. He hadn't known the man too well because his work with Lord Fiske had prevented him from visiting his sister and her family as often as he would have liked, but Thomas had always struck him as the kind of man he could get along with. He had been hard-working and down to earth, a realist to the core and a good husband and father.

Bates's thoughts turned to the inn Margaret and Thomas had maintained in their hometown. Their two children had already moved out and wouldn't be able to help their mother, so she would have to hire help if she wanted to keep the place in business. He was already half-way calculating the expenses before he realised what he was doing and almost smacked himself.

What was wrong with him? His sister had just lost the most important person in her life and he was trying to rationalise the situation? There was nothing he could do to bring any sense into the mess of emotions, nor should he try. What she needed now was a shoulder to cry on and someone to tell her that everything would be alright.

I still can't believe Thomas is gone, he thought to himself as he retired to his room. He knew he wouldn't be able to get any sleep, but lying in bed sounded like a better idea than sitting in the deserted lounge.

***

The next morning was bright and sunny. A cool wind was blowing over the castle, making every empty corner howl as Bates inspected the rooms to make sure it was fine for the building to stand unattended for a while.

Lord Fiske was still standing in the hall with two suitcases when Bates arrived there, having finished all his duties. The taller man was tapping the floor impatiently with his foot, all the while glaring at his pocket watch in annoyance.

"The driver is late," he muttered. "Bates, keep in mind that we use a different taxi company next time."

"Hopefully there won't be any need for that, milord."

"It's better to be prepared in case another unexpected event ruins our plans," Fiske remarked, and Bates lifted his brows in surprise.

He must be in a worse mood than I realised, he thought. He tried to read Fiske's face to guess what he was thinking, but the man was still glaring at his watch and ignoring his valet like a child having a tantrum. It made Bates want to point out that he was being unreasonable and that Thomas hadn't died on purpose just to spite him, but he remained silent. It was a very rare event that he and Lord Fiske got into an argument, and he didn't want them to part ways for months in those terms.

"I think that's the car," he said when he heard a vehicle arrive outside. Lord Fiske said nothing as he walked to the door, and Bates merely shrugged as he picked up the suitcases and carried them to the taxi.

Since Bates now didn't have the time to drive his master to the airport, they had been forced to come up with a backup plan and call a taxi. They would drive through the town to drop off Bates so that he could catch a bus to Yorkshire where his sister lived.

"I'll take those, sir," the driver said when he stepped out with the luggage. Bates felt oddly defensive of them all of a sudden.

"Thank you, but I can manage," he said and put the suitcases into the trunk. He hesitated a moment before getting into the car because he realised that he would have to sit with Lord Fiske in the backseat. That alone wasn't the most awkward thing to do since their relationship wasn't as strict as it could have been, but Bates dreaded the uneasy silence that he was certain would follow.

"Alrighty then, are we ready to go?" the driver asked.

"Yes, I think that was everything," Bates said.

He glanced at Lord Fiske as he seated himself, but the man was showing much interest in straightening the sleeve of his black coat, and Bates had to turn his eyes away because he didn't want to be caught staring.

He can be so childish and petty sometimes, he thought to himself. Almost anyone else would have been insulted by that anyone could act like that after someone close to them had died, but Bates didn't have it in him to be upset with his master. When someone had grown up as the only child of a wealthy family and had not faced many great disappointments in life, it was to be expected that they became stubborn and headstrong. He knew that Lord Fiske would be back to normal within a day or two, and the only regret Bates had was that he wouldn't be there when the man felt like talking again.

He busied himself with looking out the window and watching the empty scenery. The moor around the castle spread as an undulating carpet of green and brown as far as the eye could reach. Not even sheep could be seen anywhere. The story said that one of Lord Fiske's ancestors had built the castle in such an isolated place because they were insane and wanted to keep away from the rest of the world, but Bates guessed the real reason was that it was easier to defend the castle from its spot atop the lonely hill.

"Where do you want me to stop?" the driver asked as they neared the small town of Pegsfield. Greyish brown stone houses marked the town, and a few early risers were already busily walking the streets.

"By the post office will do," Bates replied.

In a matter of a few minutes, they had reached their destination and Bates got off in front of the small building with a peculiarly red door. Despite his protests, the driver insisted on getting his bag for him and making sure he knew when the bus was coming.

Bates took one last look at Lord Fiske through the open door. "I hope you have a fine time in China, milord."

"As do I," Fiske said, and this time he had it in him to glance at his valet. The look in his eyes hadn't softened one bit from earlier, and Bates slammed the car door shut with a heavy sigh.

***

It was already getting dark when Bates stepped out of the bus and took in the scenery around him. The town where his sister lived was one of those rare havens of the past where it felt like nothing had changed for decades. The streets were mostly covered in cobblestones, not a single one of the brownish houses was younger than forty years and most people didn't use cars when travelling around town.

The Blue Piglet, the inn Margaret and Thomas maintained, stood before him, looking awfully white in the darkening evening. In truth it was more of a pub than an inn, but Margaret insisted calling it the latter because of the few guest rooms they had upstairs. Bates had always loved the old house, but now he hesitated at the door.

"Margaret?" he called out as he stepped in. There was nobody behind the counter, and the room felt cold, lacking the usual smell of fresh baking and the delightful chat of customers. He put down his bag and wondered what to do; he wasn't used to having no instructions.

The sound of ascending steps caught his attention and he turned to look at the staircase that led to the upper floor just as a woman walked down. She was slightly on the pudgy side and her face was grey and tired. The lines around her mouth and eyes looked like they had been carved there with a knife, and her brown hair was in need of a good combing. She almost flew down the last few steps and then stopped at the bottom of the stairs, suddenly uncertain.

"William," she said.

"How are you doing?" It was a stupid question, he knew, but at the moment it was the only thing he could imagine himself say.

Margaret let out a half-hearted chuckle. "Absolutely terrible."

Bates only nodded. He felt awkward just standing there, so he quickly offered to make them some tea. He thought getting busy with such a common task might help him think and relax a little, but he didn't know his way around in the kitchen, and it took him a while to find the teacups. When he finally placed a cup in front of his sister, his mind wasn't any clearer than before.

"I'm so sorry about what happened," he said. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Margaret looked at him with sad eyes before shaking her head. "I don't need anything. I just want to forget about everything for a while."

"It might be a good idea to close the inn for a moment and take some time for yourself," Bates said as he pushed his spoon around in his tea. Feeling like he had to do something to fill the uneasy silence, he continued, "At a time like this, it is usually for the best to surround yourself with something that brings you comfort."

Margaret's cup let out a faint thud as she placed it on the table. "Do you have to talk to me like that?"

"Like what?" 

"Like I was Monty. I'm your sister, you don't have to be so formal with me." 

"My apol – I'm sorry. I can't help it. I spend so much time with him that I sometimes forget myself," Bates said.

"You spend _too_ much time with him. I've forgotten when you last came to visit. Why does he need you all the time?" 

Bates wasn't sure if it was appropriate to talk about him and Lord Fiske at a time like this, but since it was Margaret who had chosen this direction, he decided to go along with it. They would talk about Thomas when she felt it was the right time.

"Lord Fiske is a very busy man and someone has to be there to make sure he has everything he needs. It is an honour that he considers me worthy of serving him," he said.

Margaret frowned unhappily. "He has the money and status to hire more help." 

Bates knew that, and it was something he had considered as well. When he had been younger, he had liked being the only one in the household and the close companionship between him and Lord Fiske. As he had grown older, slower and more tired, he had sometimes wondered if life wouldn't have been easier with a butler or some maids in the castle. He had never even suggested that to his master, of course, because it wasn't his place to imply things could be improved.

"I don't think Lord Fiske would feel at home surrounded by that many people," he said. Though the man could be very charming when he felt like it, Bates had long since realised that Fiske was not a people person and preferred spending most of his time in solitude. It wasn't a good quality in someone who was expected to take part in social events and be a public figure, but Fiske had always been able to use his work as an excuse.

"Monty was always like that," Margaret remarked, turning her eyes to her cup. She hadn't taken a single sip yet.

"You should refer to him more appropriately," Bates said, making his sister let out a dry laugh.

"I used to babysit him when his parents went out. I'm not going to formally address anyone whose nappies I've changed," she said. "I always thought it wasn't healthy to spend so much time alone in that horrible castle. How does he manage now that you're here?"

"Actually, he has travelled to China just this morning. I was supposed to accompany him, but..." Bates started and let his voice die, not sure if it was a good idea to remind Margaret of Thomas. She seemed almost cheerful at the moment, and he didn't want to ruin that.

"Oh. Then you shouldn't have come here. I can manage on my own, and Sally promised to drop by the weekend."

"Don't be silly. You are my sister and this is far more important than any trip," Bates hurried to say.

Margaret pushed her teacup away abruptly. "I can't drink this." Bates waited for a moment if she was going to say anything else, but after a while he stood up and took the cup. He had already finished his tea, so he thought the least he could do was to clear the table.

He reached out to take away a third cup that had stood there the whole time, but he had barely taken it in his hands before Margaret caught his arm.

"Don't touch that."

"Why not? It's dirty," Bates said and looked at the cup with a frown. Someone had drunk coffee from it.

Margaret stood up and took the cup from her brother, wrapping her fingers around it. "I know, but Thomas used it just before he went out. I... I need to have it on the table," she said. She put the cup back on its original spot and attempted a smile.

"You must think I'm silly," she said.

"No, not at all. It's alright," Bates said uncertainly.

"No, it's not!" Without any warning, Margaret suddenly burst into tears and buried her face in her hands, leaning her elbows against the table. Sobs shook her shoulders and though she tried to say something, Bates had no hopes of understanding a single word. For a moment he remained frozen, not knowing what to do, but then he walked around the table and gently wrapped his arms around his sister.

"I miss him so much already. How can I ever learn to live without him?" Margaret finally managed to whisper.

"It's not going to be easy, but you can do it. You still have me and Sally and Nick," Bates said, hoping to calm her down a little. 

"They have their own lives, and you're always away with Monty."

Bates felt a guilty stab inside him at Margaret's words. It was true that he spent more time with Lord Fiske than his own family, but he hadn't regretted it very often. He had distanced himself from his family when Nora had died because it had been easier to stay with the lonely Fiske than to keep in touch with his sister, her husband and her children. Now Margaret was in a very similar situation, but unlike him, she had nobody to devote her life to.

"Don't worry. We'll think of something," he assured her.

***

Bates stayed with Margaret for a few weeks and was in no hurry to return to the empty Fiske castle. He reasoned that since his master knew where he was and how to reach him, there was no need for him to go back home where there wouldn't be anything useful for him to do. He had also realised that he actually liked spending time with his family.

Margaret's daughter, Sally, had arrived with her husband and three children, and they had soon filled the inn with bubbling conversation, laughter and yells, but also tears and quiet mourning. The children were too young to understand death and only knew that grandfather had gone somewhere, so they had no problem being as loud as they liked.

Sally's younger brother, Nick, had also showed up with his girlfriend but he hadn't been able to stay for long because his work demanded his attention in Liverpool. Bates had been happy to exchange a few words with the young man since he hadn't had the chance to meet him in almost five years, and he was interested in meeting his nephew's girlfriend for the first time.

"Can you take Danny for a moment?" Sally asked and shoved her youngest child into Bates's arms. The valet held the baby as Sally poured herself a glass of milk and downed it at one go. She sighed and brushed her brown hair away from her eyes, looking exhausted.

It was no wonder, Bates mused. Sally had been taking care of her mother almost non-stop, but she also had little Daniel to worry about. Her husband was thankfully able to keep an eye on the two other children. Bates would have liked to help, but the two girls were frightened of him. Yet another reminded that he should have spent more time with his family.

"Are you alright?" he asked. He didn't offer to give the baby back because he thought Sally deserved a break.

"Yeah, just tired. I don't know what to do about mum," the woman said as she leaned her back against the sink.

"It looks like she's holding up rather well." The beginning had been hard on all of them, but as weeks had passed, Margaret had almost returned to her usual self. There were times when she wanted to be alone and she still cried sometimes, but Bates knew there wasn't much he could do about that. The pain would never go fully away.

Sally grimaced at his words. "She doesn't want us to worry about her, but I know she will never get used to living alone." She glanced at his way as she spoke and lifted her brows suggestively. She and her family would be returning to their hometown in a few days because their holiday was over and with Bates leaving in a few weeks, there would be nobody to look after Margaret.

"I'll stay for as long as I can," he promised.

"I was hoping that you'd stay for good. Mum needs someone, and she can't take care of the inn alone."

Bates blinked in surprise. He hadn't even thought about moving to live with his sister, and the mere idea sounded completely ludicrous to him. How could he ever leave Lord Fiske all alone and learn to live an entirely different life?

On the other hand, how could he put Fiske before Margaret?

"That would... be a bit drastic, don't you think?" he asked. He didn't feel comfortable taking any stance that fast, especially since both options made him feel guilty and awkward.

"Nope. If you're worried about Fiske, I'm sure he can find someone else to work for him," Sally said. She reached out her arms to take Danny back and Bates handed over the baby, suddenly happy to be rid of him.

"I'll have to think about it," he said. He knew he couldn't have a real discussion about the issue with Sally. Unlike him and Margaret, she hadn't grown up in the Fiske household and didn't understand how the old traditions between their families worked, nor did she want to. To her all of that was nothing but old-fashioned rubbish that had no place in the modern world.

"Great. Mum could really use someone," Sally said. "Nobody should have to be all alone."

***

Despite all this, Bates did return to the castle when Lord Fiske was due to return in a week. Margaret hadn't questioned his decision or in any way implied that she wanted him to stay, but Bates had seen it in her eyes that she was afraid of everyone leaving one by one and not coming back. He had promised her that he would ring her more often and visit her every chance he got and that she could visit him any time she wanted. Sadly, any of that did very little to ease the guilty feeling inside him.

He had thought about suggesting that maybe she could move to live with him in the castle. He could use a little help keeping everything working, but he knew he would first have to discuss it with Lord Fiske. Margaret had been something like an older sister to the man, so it was possible he'd accept the idea.

The massive front door boomed shut behind him, and the sound seemed to echo forever in the isolated hallways. After all the noise at Margaret's, the click of his steps in the complete silence felt very unnerving. Bates shuddered despite himself. The monkey paintings, most of which he had never liked in the first place, seemed to be sneering down at him from every wall in the castle.

He almost regretted leaving Margaret already, but he knew that the lonely week ahead of him was barely enough for him to clean the castle and prepare everything for Lord Fiske's return. Layers of dust coated every surface and the rooms felt chilly; even if he lit a fire it would take days before the rooms became warm again.

There was a surprise waiting for him in Lord Fiske's study. The answering machine, half buried under scattered notes, had a bright red light on it, and Bates's heart almost stopped as he realised that there were over fifty messages in it. His first thought was that something had to be wrong, something must have happened to Lord Fiske in China. Maybe he had been seriously injured and hadn't been able to tell anyone how to get in touch with his valet.

Maybe he had died alone because Bates had been out of reach.

Forcing these fears to the back of his mind, Bates pushed the button on the machine and the first messages started playing.

"Monty, is something wrong? You didn't turn up for your lecture today. We got Anthony covering for you, but you know he's not an expert in this area."

"I apologize for calling again, but I received no reply to my previous message. Has something happened? You are going to show up tomorrow, right?"

"Where the hell are you? This was the second time you miss your lecture without informing us beforehand! If you don't ring me today I'll have someone come over to your castle and see what's going on!"

The messages went on and on like that. Every single one of them was about Lord Fiske missing some important meeting or deadline, and the closer to the end Bates got, the angrier the messages became. He had to stop listening to the last one because he didn't want to hear the language that was being used.

He was relieved that nothing was wrong with Lord Fiske, but the messages meant new worries for him. His master had said that he had transferred all of his work to someone else, but apparently he hadn't. It looked like Fiske had lied to him about that.

Or maybe he was so excited about his trip that he thought about arranging everything but then forgot to actually do it, Bates thought. It wasn't entirely out of character for Fiske, but it also meant that he was putting the monkey statues before his real work, and that was an unnerving thought.

He shook his head to himself. There would be no answer to that question until Lord Fiske returned, if even then. All he could do now was to start cleaning up and hope for the best.

Bates decided to start from the study since it was the room where Fiske spent most of his time and it was therefore always in state of utter chaos. He didn't dare touch anything on the desk, as he had once been in the receiving end of a verbal beating from Fiske's father after misplacing a book by putting it back into the shelf, and he had never tried to test the waters and find out if the younger Fiske was as strict about his research.

Those few shelves that weren't covered in books carried obscure monkey artefacts that Fiske thought gave the room character, but there were also a few pictures there. Bates remembered putting them there himself several years ago when Fiske's uncle had decided to visit. The valet had thought it wouldn't do to offend the man by underlining the fact that his master had very little interest in keeping in touch with his family. He had quickly gathered a few family photos and put them in a visible spot, and Fiske hadn't removed them since – probably because doing that would have required actually acknowledging the existence of his family.

Bates picked up one of the photos. He had to blow off some dust before the picture became clear enough for him to recognise the person in it. It was Fiske's grandmother, holding her two eldest children in her arms and staring grimly at the camera. Neither of the children, Fiske's father Gregory nor his sister Clarissa, were smiling, so Bates put the morbid picture back.

The next picture was an official photo of Lord Gregory Fiske and his colleague, Nigel Abercroft, proudly presenting the infant elephant that had been born in the zoo under their watchful eye. Bates couldn't remember who had framed the picture and why, but it brought back memories of Abercroft. The man had been a very close family friend, but his master hadn't kept in touch with him after the death of his father.

"You can already see that he will be a great man."

The words came back to him all of a sudden, and he took another look at the picture. That was what Abercroft had said about Monty when the boy had been only five. He couldn't remember what had triggered the comment, but he could recall many similar occasions of late Lord Fiske's colleagues complimenting his son.

"I hear you've been teaching Montgomery those peculiar martial arts, Gregory. I say it must do wonders to one's discipline."

"Your son is already familiar with Macaulay's work? Very impressive for someone his age."

"So, Montgomery was accepted into Oxford? Marvellous!"

"There is no doubt that he will achieve much in his life. We wouldn't expect any less of him."

Bates put the picture away with a frown. He had nearly forgotten how much attention his master had received when he had been younger. All of those people who had predicted such a brilliant future for him had been right, but he had still disappointed them in that one regard that he didn't enjoy sharing his glory with anyone.

The last few pictures were photos of distant aunts, uncles and cousins, and Bates had no particular interest in them. What did give him a good chuckle was a framed newspaper article that Lord Fiske had included among the others himself, probably just to annoy his uncle. The article described the success of a detective story written by Fiske's cousin, Cecil Blaketon. The man had infuriated his family by dropping out of medical school and starting a shaky career as a writer. The success he had eventually gained had done little to heal the relationship between him and his family.

The sound of the telephone brought Bates back from his thoughts, and he hurried to answer. He cringed to himself when he realised that the caller was Mr Graves.

"Finally! I've been ringing you every day! Where the hell have you been?" the man's enraged voice barked at him.

"I'm terribly sorry, sir, but Lord Fiske has travelled to China on business, and I've had to take care of some personal matters."

There was a brief silence before Graves blurted, "China? What in God's name is he doing in China? He was supposed to be lecturing and helping us deal with the Nigerians!"

"I'm afraid I do not know the nature of Lord Fiske's research, but I'm sure he will give you the details later if he sees it necessary. He should be returning later this week," Bates said. It was hard to be polite when the other person sounded like a mad bull.

"Who does he think he is? Just because he has a royal title and everyone in the museum worships him doesn't mean he has the right to abandon his responsibilities without informing anyone and leave us in trouble! If he thinks he can get away with this, he's very, very wrong!" Graves ranted and abruptly hung up, leaving Bates's ears ringing painfully.

He sighed and tried to tell himself that Graves was merely overreacting, as usual, but a small doubtful voice inside him reminded him that forgetting his work like that wasn't Lord Fiske's style. At the very least he would have called the museum once he reached China. The fact that he hadn't done that meant that he still hadn't remembered, didn't care or had no chance to do so. Bates didn't know if he liked any of those options.

The rest of the week was very monotonous for him. He cleaned the castle as well as he could, kept the flames in the fireplace alive to warm the cold stone walls and took the angry phone calls that just continued coming in. The only friendly call came from San Francisco where one of Lord Fiske's colleagues was looking for help in locating some kind of Chinese Monkey Talisman.

Even this didn't cheer Bates up at all, though, because he realised that during the two months that Lord Fiske had been gone, not a single person had ringed because they were worried or wanted to hear from him. Everything had been about work, and he wondered if anybody would even miss Lord Fiske if they didn't need something from him.


	4. Chapter 4

“I think I will have to go back soon.”

Those were the words that Lord Fiske blurted out as soon as he stepped into the car at the airport. Bates turned to look behind his shoulder and saw his master grinning at him with what had to be one of the happiest smiles he had ever seen on his face. 

“I assume your trip was worthwhile then, milord?” 

Lord Fiske leaned back in his seat and ran a hand through his hair, making it ruffled and messy. “Worthwhile?” he repeated giddily. “It was more than worthwhile, Bates! You have no idea how much I learned, what I experienced! You should have been there!” He let out a small laugh, and Bates bit back the question of whether they had served wine on the flight. 

“How delightful, milord,” he remarked as he started the engine and began a daring escapade into the traffic of London. 

There had been no word from Lord Fiske throughout the time he had been in China, not a single letter, phone call or even an e-mail. All Bates had known of his return was the date they had agreed on before the trip, and on the morning of that day the Heathrow Airport had seen him waiting for his master with a nervous feeling in his stomach. All sorts of thoughts had flashed through his mind; what if the lack of communication was because something bad had happened, maybe Lord Fiske was still mad at him, maybe he wasn’t coming back at all. 

He had therefore released a deep sigh of relief when he had seen Fiske among the other first class passengers, looking no different than ever before. It might have been simply because the two of them had rarely been apart this long, but there was something that was making Bates uneasy about the whole business in China. It was good to have his master back.

“I would have loved to stay longer. What I learned there was barely scratching the surface. It’s infuriating that I do not posses the opportunity to study everything at once. But of course, I had to come back to my responsibilities or I would run out of resources,” Lord Fiske blabbered. The two months had made him entirely forget how upset he had been with Bates when they had parted. It relieved the valet a great deal, but at the same time he was just a tad annoyed by that Fiske was acting like nothing had happened. His Lordship’s hurt feelings might have been healed, but Bates still had a grieving sister. 

“Yes, about that…” he started uncertainly, not really knowing how to present the bad news. 

“What is it?” 

Bates coughed. “Milord has received quite a number of phone calls.” 

“Really? What are they about?” 

“Well, it seems like there has been some kind of misunderstanding regarding your work. The gentlemen at the museum are somewhat upset with you at the moment.” 

Fiske frowned and rubbed his chin in thought. “Funny. I thought I left Arthur a note. It must have slipped my mind,” he said, switching to a lighter tone towards the end. Bates took a glance at his master through the mirror, but there was no sign of worry on the man’s face. It wasn’t like Lord Fiske to be that indifferent about, well, about anything. 

“If I may so bold, I’d suggest you contact Mr Graves when you have the time. He has been calling the most.”

“I’ll do that later. I have quite a lot of things to do at home,” Fiske replied. He had brought one bag with him into the car, and it was neither of the two suitcases he had taken with him originally. The shape of the bag revealed nothing, but Bates a hunch about its contents.

“Did you acquire a new piece of art, milord?” 

“Much better than that, Bates.” 

“It wouldn’t be one of those monkey statues, would it?” Bates wondered out loud. He didn’t know if he should have hoped for a negative answer because while he wasn’t eager to have another one of the ugly excuses of statues in the castle, he knew that Lord Fiske would eventually possess them all anyway. If he had found one in China, it meant Bates had one less trip to the ends of the Earth to look forward to. 

Fiske chuckled light-heartedly. “You know me too well. It took me a while to retrieve it, but it was worth all the trouble. You’ll see when we’re home.”

Bates doubted that, but he couldn’t deny that he was curious about everything that had happened in China. Lord Fiske hadn’t even told him what he had gone to study there, and the past two months were a complete blank spot in his master’s life to him.

“Did you manage to discover anything else there?” he asked. 

Though he couldn’t see behind his back, the tone of Lord Fiske’s voice told him that the man was not smiling anymore. “As I said, I learned more than I ever thought possible, and it was merely the beginning. Much more must be revealed to me before I am ready for my destiny.”

“Your destiny, milord?” Bates repeated. Had those Chinamen managed to fill his master’s head with idiotic rubbish about magic and mystique? He grimaced slightly, knowing that he should have been there as Lord Fiske’s voice of reason. 

“Don’t sound so doubtful. There is much that the white man doesn’t understand about this world, but I have seen a fraction of it. I must learn much more if I want to discover the truth about these statues,” Fiske explained, sounding like his mind had drifted off to some distant dimension that only he could see. Bates usually didn’t mind that, but now they weren’t talking about historical facts but utter nonsense that no sane person would believe in. 

“I’m afraid your words are making me somewhat uneasy, milord,” he said after a brief hesitation. “Surely you don’t believe in that old legend?”

Lord Fiske laughed, and the sound soothed Bates’s fears somewhat.

“I haven’t lost my mind yet, Bates. When I say destiny, I mean finding all four statues and discovering the secrets behind them. I think this could be an excellent subject for a new book.” 

“It is a bit melodramatic, though, milord,” Bates replied. 

“You would understand my fascination if you had been with me and seen what I have,” Fiske said. He paused for a moment. “So, how is Margaret?” 

Bates was almost surprised that Lord Fiske had remembered she even existed. Maybe it was cynical of him, but he had learned to understand that there was room for only a few things at a time in the man’s mind. When he was particularly interested in something, he forgot everything and everyone else. The good side of it was that he always found a new passion after a while. Bates didn’t even want to think about what Lord Fiske would be like if he ever got fixated on one single thing. 

“She’s fine, but it’s lonely to take care of the inn alone, even with the customers there. I just spoke to her yesterday and she’d like some company,” Bates replied. He had decided to approach Lord Fiske about the subject of Margaret moving to the castle later when his master wasn’t tired from the long flight and had sorted out his business with the museum. 

“Well, that’s understandable,” Fiske remarked, and that was all he said about the subject during the trip home. 

They arrived at the Fiske Castle when the evening was already turning dark. Bates hid a yawn behind the back of his hand as he went to take Lord Fiske’s baggage inside, tired from driving. Despite that there was still much to do before he could go to bed, he was feeling happy because his master was finally back and their life could take a turn for the normal again.

The past week in the old castle had been far from a pleasant one. He had dusted every room and prepared everything for Lord Fiske’s return, but even all the work hadn’t been able to take his mind off that there was nobody to talk to and nothing else to do. He hadn’t gone to the town because he didn’t want to miss any phone calls from Margaret, so he had ended up roaming the hallways alone with his thoughts. 

Lord Fiske stretched his back after carefully putting down the bag with the second monkey statue. He had clutched onto it as soon as he had got out of the car, and Bates guessed he wasn’t welcome to offer carrying it instead. 

“Take a look at this,” Fiske said as he opened the bag and revealed the statue. It had smaller ears than the first one, but Bates thought it looked just as ugly. 

“I say,” he muttered in suitable interest because he knew Lord Fiske was expecting him to be impressed. 

“Magnificent, isn’t it? I must look into the slight differences between the statues at once. They might be clues to discovering the secret of the tribe that made them. Maybe they’re even supposed to represent some kind of gods,” the man said and looked down at the statue with affection.

“So there are two more statues left, then.”

“Indeed. I’m afraid I don’t have many clues about their locations, but I’m sure I’ll discover them eventually. In the meantime, I have to find a good hiding place for the two I already possess.” 

Bates lifted a brow. “A hiding place, milord?”

“Well, yes,” Fiske blurted out like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I don’t want anyone to know of my research, so the statues can’t stay in my study.”

Though it was on the tip of Bates’s tongue, he didn’t ask why anyone would care about this research or want to steal the results, especially after Fiske had already told Graves that there was nothing interesting about the statues. 

“Maybe we can move them into one of the guestrooms.” 

Lord Fiske rubbed his chin and frowned in thought, his eyes turning to the floor. “No, I don’t think that’s good enough. Someone can find them there.”

“We never have guests, milord,” Bates reminded him. 

Fiske ignored the comment and instead turned to face the fireplace. “I was thinking more along the lines of the secret rooms we have here. Wasn’t there a good one over there?” he asked, but it wasn’t really a question. Bates knew there was no way Lord Fiske could have forgotten that particular room, not after he had discovered it as a child and accidentally locked himself in for a day. 

Bates hadn’t been even twenty when it had happened, but decades had done nothing to blur the memory of the day in his mind. 

Everyone in the castle had been in panic, searching every corner and side room for the disappeared eight-year-old but ending up empty-handed no matter where they looked. They had even sent a man down the abandoned well in the moors that everyone had almost forgotten about. Everybody had been relieved when they hadn’t found young Monty there but also worried because it meant they had no other places to search. 

It had eventually been Bates’s father who had discovered the secret room, only because he recalled hearing stories of it as a boy. The Fiske Castle was rumoured to contain numerous hidden rooms and passages, even one where an ancestor had chained his daughter to the wall, sealed the door and left her to starve to death for falling in love with a peasant. Most of them had been forgotten in the years and the only ones still in recent memory were those that servants used as shortcuts to different parts of the castle. 

After Margaret had told their father that she had seen young Monty in the lounge before his disappearance, Richard Bates had decided to investigate and had opened the door to the room by accident after two hours of experimenting. They had found Monty sitting in a corner in the dark room, fortunately not the one in the stories about the rebellious daughter, scared but completely unharmed.

He had shielded his eyes against the intruding light they had brought into the room and yelped when his mother had pushed her way past the men and scooped him up in her arms. Bates had caught a glimpse of Monty’s face at that moment, and he had been surprised to see that the boy was taking the situation better than his parents, both of whom were now burying him in words of worry and relief. 

Once everyone had calmed down a little they had asked the boy exactly what had happened. He had explained that he had opened the door by accident when he had been trying to reach a book that had been placed above the fireplace. The discovery had made him forget all common sense and he had gone to investigate the mysterious room, locked himself in the dark and been unable to open the door from the other side. Nobody had heard his calls for help, so he had decided to wait.

“But I wasn’t scared,” he had added quickly. He had slept with his parents the following night. 

His parents had immediately announced that if their son ever came across other secret rooms, it was entirely forbidden to enter them. It didn’t work, of course, since young boys were known to disobey their parents in order to get into adventures. Bates had caught the young master several times trying to find out if the room with the chained girl existed.

“You certainly seem lost in your thoughts.”

Bates blinked as he realised that Lord Fiske was speaking to him and regarding him with a somewhat amused expression in his eyes. 

“My apologies, milord,” he said hastily. “I was just reminded of how we discovered that room.”

“Ah, yes. I remember it, too. What a stroke of luck it was,” Lord Fiske said. 

“I wouldn’t call an incident like that luck, milord." 

“Well, I wasn’t that thrilled about it at the moment, but the room does have its uses at present time, does it not?” Fiske asked as he walked to the fireplace and pulled at the chandelier on the wall. The fireplace started moving downwards with an angry growl for the mechanism had remained abandoned for centuries, excluding the little accident. 

Bates guessed it made sense. What else could you use a secret room for other than hiding things you didn’t want anyone else to see? The only problem was that he didn’t think the two of them had any reason to hide anything, so the whole idea was ludicrous to him.

“There should be a torch somewhere in that suitcase,” Fiske said and pointed to the smaller piece of luggage. Bates went to take it out and handed it to his master.

“Now, let’s see,” Fiske said and pointed the light down the stairs. He started going down and Bates followed, somewhat curious to see what they would find. Nobody had been in the room since that day decades ago because Lord Fiske’s father had forbidden anyone from opening the door again, and eventually they had lost interest. 

“Isn’t it amusing that I can go exploring at my own home?” Fiske asked happily when they came to the end of the stairs. 

“Very, milord.” 

“When I’m retired, I’m going to have to turn this place upside-down and find all the secret rooms that have been lost. I’m still curious to know if the story about Lady Catherine is true,” Fiske said. He pointed the light around the room to see if there was anything worth their attention, but it looked like the place was empty. Only dust lay on the rough stone floor. 

“This rules out the possibility of hidden family treasures, I suppose,” Fiske remarked.

Bates looked around in the light of the torch. The room was built of roughly carved reddish stone and was surprisingly large. The lack of furniture and artefacts meant that there was no way to know what the place had been used for in the past, but he was certain it had to be something more important than a storage room. 

Lord Fiske walked to the centre of the room and pointed the light at the floor. “I wonder if they used this room for magic rituals in the past.”

“Magic?” Bates repeated. Of all the uses for the room, that wasn’t one to first pop into his mind. 

“Not real magic. One of my medieval ancestors was fascinated by the Celts and their druids. It’s possible he could have used the room for some role-playing,” Fiske said thoughtfully. Then he shrugged, as if to rid the unimportant ideas from his head. “But that doesn’t matter. Whatever this room was used for, it’s perfect for hiding the monkey statues. We just need to get some electricity down here.” 

“Shall I call the constructors, milord?” Bates asked, but Lord Fiske shook his head.

“No. I don’t want anyone to know about this room. We’ll do it ourselves.” 

They returned to the lounge and closed the secret door behind them. Lord Fiske turned off the torch and placed it on the fireplace. He then went to pick up the second monkey statue. 

“I’ll be in my study if you need me.”

“Very well,” Bates said. He hoped that Lord Fiske was going to sort out his business with the museum instead of staying up the rest of the evening and night researching the statues, but he didn’t want to risk annoying his master by reminding him of his responsibilities. Besides, he had his own to take care of. 

Bates picked up Fiske’s two suitcases and decided to go and unpack them in his master’s bedroom. He expected them to be filled with dirty clothes since Fiske was hopeless at doing his own laundry, but he was in for a surprise when he opened the cases. Everything was clean and in neat folds, and every single item was in its correct place. 

He must have had someone do this for him, Bates realised. It just made his work easier, so he didn’t mind. He started piling the clothes on the large bed so that he could put all of them into the closet at the same time. 

At first he thought that there was nothing but clothes in the suitcase, but at the very bottom he found a thin box. He had never seen it before and there were Chinese writing characters carved on it, so he guessed Lord Fiske must have acquired it on his trip. There was something loose inside the box, but Bates placed it on top of the clothes pile with no intention of opening it. 

It was too bad that fates had another course of action planned for him. The weight of the box made the pile topple over and fall on the floor. The mysterious box snapped open with a clank, and a small notebook came rolling from inside it. 

Frowning at his own clumsiness, Bates started collecting the fallen clothes. When he went to pick up the book, he was at first going to simply put it back into the box and pretend he had never even seen it, but then he caught a glimpse of what was written on the page that had been opened. 

April 25, Huang Shan

He realised that he had stumbled upon a diary that Lord Fiske had been keeping on his trip. He quickly shut the book before he had the chance to see anything else that was written there. What little he had already seen was bad enough as he had absolutely no right to stick his nose into his master’s private matters, nor did he have any particular interest to do so. 

Well, maybe that was a slight lie. Lord Fiske hadn’t given him any details about what he had done in China or where he had gone there, even after Bates had subtly tried asking about it. All he could get from his master was that it had been amazing and that he should have been there, which was frustrating to say the least. 

Feeling just a tad regretful, Bates put the notebook back into the box and closed the lid. It clicked faintly as secrets were put away from his reach. He kept telling himself that age had made him overly curious and nosy and that he had absolutely no right to even think about reading the journal, but the simple fact that he didn’t know what Lord Fiske had been up to for the past two months bothered him. 

He did say I should have been there, he thought to himself. That was almost like giving him the permission to take a peek. 

No, it wasn’t. Bates shook his head and placed the box in the drawer in the nightstand, away from his treacherous thoughts. Never during his decades serving the Fiske family had he even considered breaking their trust like that, and he felt ashamed for his brief moment of temptation. 

If Lord Fiske wanted him to know what had happened in China, he would tell him about it. That was final. 

Somewhat encouraged by this firm decision, Bates returned to unpacking the suitcases. He didn’t think about the box and the diary anymore, but he worked as fast as he could so that he could leave the room and be away from the nightstand and its contents. 

When he walked past Lord Fiske’s study some time later, he heard that his master was currently talking on the phone with someone. This time he let his curiosity get the better of him and he went past a little more slowly than he should have. 

“I understand you’re upset and I do apologize for my absence, but --” Lord Fiske was saying. He was interrupted by the other person and had to listen for a few moments before he was able to continue. 

“Jonathan, don’t be ridiculous. You know just as well as I do that _that_ is not it. Of course the museum is important to me,” he said, his voice turning into a frustrated growl near the end. 

Bates decided that there was nothing to be gained by eavesdropping on Lord Fiske’s conversation with Mr Graves and that the best thing he could do at the moment was to go and prepare some tea. Fiske was certainly going to be in a foul mood once the heated argument was over. 

The phone call still hadn’t ended when he came back a few moments later, carrying a tea service. He decided to be bold and enter the study without knocking. Fiske only acknowledge his arrival with a nod of his head, and Bates placed the tray on the desk, careful to find a spot where it would be least likely to fall over and ruin the books and papers spread all over the surface. 

He saw that Lord Fiske had placed the second monkey statue next to the first one. They were both glaring at him with empty stone eyes and horrid grins. Again he wondered what it was that made them so fascinating to his master. It couldn’t be simply the legend behind them because such stories were common and Fiske had never shown such interest in any other tales like that. 

Since he believed Lord Fiske to be an entirely rational man and scholar, the only answer he could come up with was that his master knew something that he hadn’t shared with him. There had to be something more about the statues and the tribe of warriors that had made them, and it was this that had captured Fiske’s attention so tightly. 

He knew Lord Fiske would tell him everything in due time, but that did little to take away the annoyance he felt for being kept in the dark. He had served the family all his life. Surely he could be trusted, no matter how sensitive the information was? 

Then again, he had briefly considered reading that diary… 

Bates was just about to exit and leave Lord Fiske to his business, but that was the moment when the phone call finally ended. Fiske put down the receiver and growled under his breath, closing his eyes and rubbing them tiredly.

“Is something the matter, milord?” Bates inquired. 

“Jonathan is overreacting, as usual. It is unfortunate that I forgot to inform them of my trip, but they were able to find a replacement. I don’t see why he has to act like the world has come to an end,” Fiske said, making an annoyed gesture with his hand. 

Though he would have liked to side with his master, Bates couldn’t help but look at the situation objectively. Lord Fiske had abandoned his responsibilities and left his colleagues in trouble for reasons that, in Bates’s opinion, weren’t good enough for that. And being used to getting what he wanted, all Fiske could see was the importance of his own research, not the problems it caused others.

He cleared his throat. “Maybe he has the right to feel somewhat irritated, milord?”

Fiske shot a glare at his valet and crossed his arms on his chest. “I can understand that he’s angry, but there is no need to take it so out of proportion when no harm was done. He had the nerve to suggest that the others would sweep this under the rug simply because of my family history and previous work for the museum!” 

“And they won’t?” Bates asked. He knew he was advancing on risky territory now and that he should have simply agreed with his master, as he usually did, but there was a part of him that wanted to challenge him now. The monkey statues had caused the whole problem and Lord Fiske had to become at least aware of that he couldn’t overlook everything else in his life in their favour. 

“No,” Fiske said in a tight tone, “because there is nothing to be hidden. I have done nothing wrong.”

“Of course not, milord, but --”

Fiske wasn’t even listening to him. “Still, I suppose it would be wise to take a break until everything returns to normal,” he mused thoughtfully. 

Finally. It was about time Lord Fiske got his priorities straight. Bates sighed and offered his master a slight smile.

“I am very glad to hear that, milord. Maybe you can continue your research on the monkey statues at a later time.”

“Oh, no, you misunderstand me. I’m going to keep my distance to the museum for a while, just long enough so that they calm down a little. In the meantime, I can dedicate all my time to the monkeys,” Fiske said and pointed his hand at the two statues. 

“But won’t that make them even angrier, milord?” 

“Nonsense! I’ll tell them that I’m writing a new book. That always wins their favour,” Fiske said. He was looking at Bates with an expectant smile, assuming that his valet would be just as happy about the decision as he was, but Bates wasn’t quite good enough at hiding his disappointment. 

“If you think that is for the best…”

“I do.”

“Very well.” 

Bates excused himself after a few more words with Lord Fiske and returned to the kitchen, though he currently had no chores to do there. The spacious room was one of the few places in the entire castle where there was absolutely nothing monkey-related. Lord Fiske had stopped coming there after he had turned nine and could no longer use his innocent eyes to get biscuits from Bates’s mother. The kitchen was of absolutely no interest to him, so it had been left in its original state. 

Sometimes, when life with Lord Fiske became more stressful than usual, Bates simply liked to sit down by the table and drink a good mug of tea, not having to worry about appearances, his behaviour or watch his words. Someone who had never worked as a servant couldn’t possibly understand how much such brief moments of freedom could mean in a man’s life. 

He didn’t bother turning on the lights. Years had taught him his way around and he could have prepared a pot of tea with a blindfold on. When he was done, he sat down and wrapped his fingers around the mug, letting the warmth spread up his hands and arms. 

Bates didn’t know what to think. If someone had told him a few months ago that Lord Fiske would shove aside his responsibilities with the museum without a second thought and dedicate his time to something else, he would have laughed and said that the world was more likely to end. 

He guessed he should have been a little worried about how fascinated his master was by the statues and the myth, but there had been nothing odd about his behaviour back then. There still wasn’t, as Lord Fiske had always been remarkable with his ability to be carried away. On the other hand, there was something that Bates couldn’t quite put his finger on that bothered him. 

No, it wasn’t Lord Fiske’s behaviour, it was what he did. He was still mostly himself, smiling in ecstasy as he talked about his research and sulking to himself when something didn’t go like he had planned, but his actions were different. Never before had he put anything before the museum, and never before had he avoided Bates’s questions about his research and intentions like that.

But what could he do about it? Even if he disagreed with what Lord Fiske was doing, none of it was actually dangerous or wrong in any way, and he couldn’t very well tell a grown man what to do with his life. All there was for him to do was to remember his place as a loyal servant and follow Lord Fiske, no matter what he decided to do.

After all, Bates mused as he sipped his tea, noblemen were known to get a little eccentric with age. Lord Fiske’s fascination with the statues was relatively harmless compared to some of the stories he had heard of the family’s past. It could have been a lot worse.


	5. Chapter 5

Lord Fiske had been certain that he’d discover the location of the third statue within three months, but there had been very little progress in that regard. He had found some vague notes that could mean that the fourth one was somewhere in South East Asia, but Fiske was determined to find the third one first. 

“The statues are numbered, Bates. I cannot seek them out in the wrong order!” he had snapped when Bates had suggested that they’d go to Asia first and then worry about the third statue. Or even better yet, forget all about the search and return to their normal life. 

“I’m surprised you would even suggest that,” Fiske said to the last comment. “You still don’t understand how important this is, do you?”

“I’m afraid I have a somewhat hard time comprehending what you hope to accomplish by bringing these statues together, milord.”

Lord Fiske looked miffed to hear that. The grimace of his lips reminded Bates of the time when Thomas had died and he had told Fiske he wouldn’t be coming to China. It was an expression of utter disappointment in that he and Bates didn’t agree on something that was so obvious to him. 

“I do have my reasons,” he said, but even now he didn’t bother enlightening Bates. The valet was certain that Lord Fiske did have a clear motive as he never did anything randomly, but as long as he didn’t know what it was, he couldn’t understand. 

He coughed. “Would you care to tell me any of them, milord?” 

Fiske glared at him. “If you had been with me in China, I wouldn’t have to. As it is, I can’t hope for you to see my point when I cannot offer you any solid evidence. In due time, however, you will understand exactly how important all of this is.”

And it was again about China. Lord Fiske hadn’t said another word about what had happened there. His constant remarks about how it had been something marvellous fed Bates’s curiosity, and there were times when he regretted not reading the diary he had found. He was almost worried that the events in China had affected his master much more than he had originally assumed, but he tried to reason with himself. As long as nothing serious happened, there was no reason for him to pry into Fiske’s secrets. 

“You know best, milord,” he agreed. 

Fiske put his attention back to the book he was reading, but he didn’t dismiss Bates yet. “As soon as I have all four monkeys, I can show you what I’m after.”

“You’re planning to prove the existence of the Mystical Monkey Power, then, milord?” Bates guessed. He hoped more than anything that it wasn’t the case, but he couldn’t think of any other reason why someone would want to have all four of the ugly statues. 

Fiske turned to look at him with brows lifted in surprise. “So, you do understand my point. Yes, that is precisely what I’m going to do.”

“But… the Mystical Monkey Power is not real, is it?”

Fiske frowned and didn’t reply right away. Bates shifted uneasily under his master’s glare, knowing that Fiske was considering what and how much he could tell him. It bothered and saddened him that the man didn’t feel like he could trust him with all of the information right away. 

“Of course it’s not,” Fiske finally said. “But I am certain that there must be something about the statues because all stories I’ve read indicate that they do have some effect on men. Maybe their correct formation is a pattern that affects the mind in the right light. Maybe they make you feel stronger if you simply believe in them, but I am certain that they are not mere statues.” 

Bates knew that Lord Fiske hadn’t told him everything and the point of this answer was to satisfy his curiosity and stop him from presenting any more questions. However, there was one more he had to ask. 

“But, milord… What is the point of all this? What difference does it make if you reveal the secret behind the statues?” 

“Curiosity, Bates. Mere curiosity. Or is there perhaps another reason why man has dug up lost cities and learned to decipher ancient scrolls?” Fiske replied. His smile did nothing to make Bates feel more comfortable. It was genuine and reached the man’s eyes, but something about it felt wrong.

“I see, milord,” he said, not knowing what else he could possibly say. There was a moment of uneasy silence, and he decided that he wasn’t needed at the moment. He exited the study and closed the door behind him. 

Who would have thought that the third statue would make Lord Fiske so snappy and annoyed? He had been stumped in his research before, but he had always been able to look at it objectively, take a break or ask his colleagues for a second opinion. He was doing none of that now and simply sulked in his study and re-read the same old books again and again. 

As much as Bates disliked the whole business with the statues, he wished that there would be a breakthrough soon. At least then they could go and get the cursed statue and move on with their lives. Maybe Lord Fiske would go back to normal once he had played with the four monkeys a little.

He had asked his master if it was alright for Margaret to move to live with them, but Fiske had barely listened to him and had then said that he’d think about it. He hadn’t brought up the topic again, and Bates didn’t feel like nagging. Now that Fiske was in a foul mood all the time and kept mostly to himself, he didn’t think it was a good idea for Margaret to come. She needed something bright and happy in her life, not a sulking nobleman who could only think of himself.

Other than Lord Fiske’s continuous research, not much had happened during the past four months. Bates had visited his sister a few times since his master didn’t need him all the time, Mr Graves had dropped by to share his uncensored opinion on what he thought of Lord Fiske’s attitude, Cecil Blaketon had invited his cousin to spend a weekend with him but had been rejected again, and Lord Fiske had developed an annoying mentality of “I’m right and you’re wrong, so please keep quiet”. 

Bates almost found himself missing Africa. It had been a tiring experience and the beginning of their troubles, but that was the last time he and Lord Fiske had done something together without the shadow of the monkey statues falling upon them and making everything grimmer.

He decided to call Margaret because it was already a few days since he had last talked to her and he wanted something else to think about. He walked to his room where he could talk in peace since there was a separate phone line there. 

“Oh, William. It’s nice to hear from you,” Margaret said when she realised who was calling. 

“How are you doing? Hopefully the inn hasn’t been too much work,” Bates said. He had been against it, but Margaret had wanted to open the place again as soon as possible. It kept her busy, she said. If she just sat alone without doing anything, her thoughts always turned back to Thomas. 

“No, not at all. And Nancy has been helping me.”

“But she can’t do much with that back of hers, can she? I think you should hire someone to help you,” Bates said in worry. The last thing he wanted was his sister to work herself to death because she was too proud to ask for help.

“You know that I don’t want strangers to stick their nose into my business. This place is also my home,” Margaret said sternly. Bates knew there was nothing to be discussed about the topic anymore as he could do nothing to change his sister’s mind. He could just hope that she remained reasonable and didn’t do anything stupid. 

Much like Lord Fiske. 

“But how are things over there? I was thinking that I might close the place down and drop by some time before Christmas,” Margaret said to change the subject.

“That would be nice. I’m sure Lord Fiske would like the company as well. Are you going to spend Christmas with Sally?” 

“Yes, both she and Nick are coming here with their families,” Margaret said. When she continued, her voice was a little uncertain. “I was hoping that you’d join us. You can bring Monty along if you don’t want to leave him alone.”

“I’ll have to think about it. I’ll let you know when I know what plans he has,” Bates said. In truth, he would have loved to go. For years Christmas had meant nothing but Lord Fiske’s company in the dreadful castle with only the most modest decorations. The cards that he received from his family only made it worse because they reminded him of that everyone else was together, enjoying each other’s company in the cozy guesthouse.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like spending Christmas with Lord Fiske. It was just horribly lonely because the man barely acknowledged the holiday and certainly didn’t ask anyone from his family to pay a visit. The only one who bothered to send him a Christmas card anymore was Cecil, though for the past three years he had sent a home-made greeting with the text “Do you really want to die alone and miserable, you pigheaded idiot?”

“Oh, alright,” Margaret said. Bates knew that she had guessed how things were and that she probably shouldn’t expect to see him this year either. 

“I promise I’ll talk it over with Lord Fiske,” he said, both to make her feel better and to subdue his own guilt a little. 

“Tell him I’ll be making mum’s mince pie.”

“I’m not certain if that’s going to be enough to convince him.”

“Hah, then you never saw him lurk in the kitchen and wait to steal a bite.”

Actually, Bates had. It had been years, but he cold still easily recall what Lord Fiske had been like as a child. Being the only child of a wealthy family, he was used to getting almost everything he wanted, and he had considered everything to be there for him to play with. Bates, too, could recall little Monty pulling the hems of their mother’s skirt and demanding a treat. Anne Bates had tried to be stern, but she had always given up in the end. 

It was only after he had grown older and gone to boarding school that Fiske had realised that there was much more to the world than the Fiske Castle. He hadn’t exactly grown more serious as a result, but he had become more careful about sharing his feelings with others. Bates sometimes thought he was the only person in the world in whose company Lord Fiske felt entirely comfortable. 

“William?” Margaret asked and Bates realised that he had been caught in his thoughts for a while now. 

“Oh, sorry. I do remember as well. I simply don’t think Lord Fiske would be interested.”

“You said he loved the pies I sent over last year. Has something happened?” Margaret asked. 

Yes, Bates thought. Lord Fiske had found a new passion that left very little room for anything else and made him forget everything that had once been dear to him. 

“No, everything is fine. He’s merely very busy with research at the moment.”

“Isn’t he always?” Margaret asked, a somewhat disapproving tone in her voice. “But I guess it can’t be helped. He has always been like that.”

“True, and I doubt he’s ever going to change,” Bates said.

***

About a week later, Bates was doing the dishes in the kitchen when Lord Fiske suddenly appeared at the door.

“Get your coat, Bates. We’re going to London,” the man said. Bates almost dropped one of great-grandmother Fiske’s priceless plates in surprise. 

“London? What for, milord?” he asked as he carefully put the plate away and dried his hands. He wished they had a dishwasher, but over half of the utensils in the castle were so old that they had to be washed by hand. 

“I found a footnote that says which book I need in order to locate the third statue. It’s very old and the nearest copy is in the archives of the British Museum. Come along now, we don’t have all day,” Lord Fiske said. He was already fully dressed and watched impatiently as Bates tried to get himself ready as fast as possible. 

“Couldn’t this wait until tomorrow, milord?” the valet asked as he finished buttoning his coat. 

“No. I have wasted months of valuable time doing research that didn’t lead anywhere. I cannot wait any longer.” Without another word, Fiske turned around and walked out of the room to wait for Bates to get the car ready. 

For a moment, Bates simply stared at the spot where his master had been and then sighed to himself. He had no interest in going to London because it would be late night when they got back home, and he wasn’t looking forward to what his back would say about driving that much. On the other hand, if this helped Lord Fiske to get in a better mood, he was ready to endure it. 

“Well, that took you long enough,” Fiske said when Bates was finally out with the car. 

“My apologies, milord,” Bates said. In truth he hadn’t wasted a single moment getting the car ready. 

“No matter. Now, we have to get to London as soon as possible,” Fiske said as he took a seat. 

“Why the rush, milord? The book is not going anywhere.”

“Bates, I already explained why I’m in such a hurry,” Fiske said in an impatient tone, and Bates knew better than to keep talking. He started the engine, and the silent drive to London began. 

Hours later, once they were getting close to the museum, did Lord Fiske speak again. He leaned forward and pointed to the side. 

“Turn left here.”

“I know the way, milord.”

“I know you do. I’m only making sure,” Fiske said. There was a hint of a smile on his face and Bates knew he was in better spirits because of the excitement of finding what he was looking for. He reasoned he should be grateful for that, so he pushed his annoyance aside. 

“It’s rather late. Do you think they will let us in?”

Fiske took a look at his pocket watch. “It’s about fifteen minutes until they close the doors for visitors. I work there, so there should be no problem.”

“Milord hasn’t done any work for the museum in several months,” Bates reminded him.

Several minutes later, they were at the front doors. At first the guard there didn’t want to let them in because it was almost closing time, but once they explained who they were and what they were after, they were allowed to enter with no further problems. 

“See? I told you there is nothing to worry about,” Fiske remarked with a smug edge in his voice. 

“The guard can hardly be expected to know of the argument between you and the museum board, milord.”

“Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport, Bates. We’re only here to take a look at that book.” 

Lord Fiske sounded like he was excited enough to fly spontaneously, and there was a small self-confident smile playing on his lips. The way he was acting like nothing in the world could stop them reminded Bates of what he had been like in Africa when they had discovered the first statue. He felt a small sense of relief at that. The past months had sometimes made him wonder if the Lord Fiske he knew was ever coming back. 

The corridors were empty, and the click of their steps echoed around them. Bates had never enjoyed their visits to the British Museum. The people there were all educated academics who either looked at him down their noses or simply pretended that he didn’t exist. Lord Fiske never noticed or maybe he didn’t care. He was among equals at the museum.

“It looks like Jonathan is still here,” Fiske remarked. 

The man in question had just appeared from behind a corner and didn’t notice the two of them right away. When he did, however, the somewhat pleasant smile on his face twisted into a grimace. 

“Lord Fiske,” he greeted stiffly. “I was under the impression that we weren’t going to see you here in a while.” He had a little girl with him, and he gestured for her to be silent.

“And you were quite correct to assume that. I am only here because of my research,” Fiske said. Unlike that of Mr Graves, his smile almost looked genuine. Bates supposed it was something all men of higher status were born with. Being polite and pleasant to those they didn’t like while making their true feelings known to everyone who knew where to look came naturally to them. 

“Ah, I see. You don’t see it worthwhile to do your work anymore, but you’re always ready to use our resources,” Graves said, attempting that same polite tone. 

“Unless you have changed the policies, the archives have always been open to respected scholars,” Fiske pointed out. 

“Respected, yes. However, I must say that you recent stunt has angered quite many around here.”

Bates took a better look at the girl with Graves. She was maybe ten or eleven years old and had the same pale face and brown hair as the man, but her eyes were of a sharp grey tone. She remained silent, stubbornly pressing her lips together as if to make sure no word escaped her mouth. She kept looking at the three men with a calculating expression in her eyes. 

It was now that Lord Fiske took notice of the girl as well. He nodded at her.

“And this young lady? It wouldn’t be your daughter, would it, Jonathan?” 

Graves put his hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Yes, this is Alice. My wife had to run a few errands, so she has been with me today.” 

Bates suspected a day at the museum would have bored any child to death, but Alice looked like a quiet and obedient young girl. He was ready to bet that she hadn’t uttered a single complaint. 

“Anyway, back on topic,” Lord Fiske said. “The book I’m looking for is in the archives. It shouldn’t be difficult to find.”

“You say that even though you know exactly how much material we have here,” Graves muttered. He glanced at his watch. “I suppose you haven’t even called beforehand and asked anyone to get the book ready for you.”

Lord Fiske’s smile didn’t waver. “No, I’m afraid it slipped my mind.”

Graves didn’t have to utter a word to let everyone know what he thought of Lord Fiske at the moment; the twisted line of his lips and the loathing in his eyes told enough.

“Arthur had to go home early, so there’s nobody here who knows how to manage the archives,” he said. 

“I know my way around quite well,” Fiske said. 

Graves sighed like a man who had just accepted being on the death row. “Very well, then. We have a new guard who doesn’t know you, so I’ll show you in.” He turned to look at his daughter. “Alice, stay here and don’t do anything.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Bates, why don’t you keep company to the young lady? There’s no reason for you to come with me. I’ll be back as soon as I have discovered what I’m looking for,” Lord Fiske said. 

“But, milord --” Bates started to object. This was yet another occasion when his master pushed him away and didn’t let him be part of his research about the monkey statues. Before he got to even finish, both Fiske and Graves had turned their backs on them and were walking down the corridor. Bates sighed, feeling ignored. 

He glanced at the girl again. She was holding some kind of stuffed animal, but it was unlike anything Bates had ever seen before. It seemed to have the head and tail of a raccoon but the ears and body of a rabbit. 

What on Earth, he wondered to himself. 

Alice noticed that he was staring and pressed the toy tightly against her chest, turning her eyes to the floor. Bates guessed she was wary of him and for a good reason. Her father had left her all alone with a complete stranger. 

“That’s a nice toy you have,” he said. 

Alice glanced up. After a brief moment of hesitation, she lifted the toy so that Bates could have a better look. It was indeed an unholy cross of two animals. He couldn’t believe they allowed children to have something like that. 

“It’s my Buccoon,” the girl said. 

“Buccoon?” Bates repeated. 

“Bunny and raccoon. I got it from daddy,” Alice said. “It’s my favourite Cuddle Buddy.”

“I see,” Bates said. “In my time, girls played with dolls.”

Alice pursed her lips slightly and slit her eyes in obvious disapproval, but she didn’t say anything. She turned the Buccoon around in her hands and regarded the toy’s face with a long look before her expression softened and she tugged the toy under her arm. Bates guessed that he would have felt defensive, too, if someone had criticised his wooden train when he had been a child. 

He searched his head for better topics to talk about. His experience with little girls of this age was rather lacking. 

“So, you’re here with your father,” he said. The only reply he got from the girl was a short nod. Maybe she was angry with him because of the Buccoon. 

“And… do you have any siblings?” he asked after they had stood in silence for a good minute, awkwardly avoiding each other’s eyes. 

“I have a brother,” Alice said.

“That’s nice. What’s his name?” Bates asked. 

“Adam.”

“Is he older than you, or younger?” 

“He’s just one. I’m eleven. Almost,” Alice said, lifting her chin in pride and looking at Bates with eyes that dared him to question the importance of her age. 

“You’re already a big girl, then. I thought you might be thirteen,” Bates said. He watched with some amusement how the girl’s face brightened at that. Children were so easy to please sometimes.

He was in the middle of wondering what he could ask her about next when Graves returned and saved him the trouble. Alice immediately hurried to her father’s side and didn’t look at Bates anymore. 

“I hope she didn’t bother you. I’ve told her countless times she shouldn’t bore people with talking,” Graves said. 

“Oh, no. She was no trouble at all,” Bates replied. 

Graves seemed happy to hear that and gave his daughter a small smile. “Good. We found the book for his Lordship and he should be done with it later this evening. He asked me to tell you that you can wait here. I’m afraid I can’t stay for company as I have to hurry home.”

“Of course, sir. You don’t need to worry about me,” Bates said at once. He watched how Graves left together with his daughter, the two of them disappearing behind a corner. He glanced around, but he was now entirely alone in the corridor. Sighing to himself, he sat down on the wooden bench by the wall and started to wait. 

When they had last used the museum archives, he had been there to help Lord Fiske carry the books. They both knew he would be of no help in doing the actual research, but he had always felt a sense of importance at being by his master’s side, ready to do anything if needed. It felt wrong that he wasn’t there now. 

He probably didn’t want the girl to stay up here alone, he tried to reason. That would have made sense if Lord Fiske had been the kind of man who thought fondly of children. Thinking about the well-being of anyone, himself included, was out of character for him when there was interesting research to be done.

But surely he is not trying to hide anything from me, he thought. He knew there was much that Lord Fiske didn’t see suitable to share with him, but he always told him all the details about topics that concerned him as well. The affair with the monkey statues was exactly such a case because they would surely travel to find the third statue as soon as they knew where it was. 

I do have the right to know what is going on, he thought, somewhat miffed. There was no reason for Lord Fiske to keep all this information from him. He was responsible and had accompanied his master on so many expeditions that one could almost say he had a degree in archaeology as well. He wasn’t going to do anything wrong with the information. 

Maybe his master didn’t trust him. The monkey statues obviously meant very much to him, so maybe he wasn’t ready to rely upon anyone with information about them. Maybe Bates’s long years of servitude were not enough to guarantee his trustworthiness in Lord Fiske’s eyes. 

Maybe he should have read that diary after all. He was certain that something had happened in China and that he would not be able to understand Lord Fiske before he knew exactly what it was. 

Hours passed. The light pouring in through the window by his side grew thinner and thinner until the entire corridor was left buried in shadows. A passing museum worker turned on the lamps, but their cold light did nothing to make Bates feel any more comfortable in his surroundings. He was getting hungry, the bench was beyond uncomfortable and he was bored out of his mind. 

He realised he should probably go and look for his master by now before they were locked in. If he didn’t have anyone to tell him to stop reading, Lord Fiske might spend the whole night studying the monkey statues. 

Bates had just made his mind and was about to leave for the archives when Fiske arrived. His face was beaming, and he walked with long steps, eager to reach his valet as soon as possible. 

“I found it!” he announced in triumph. 

“Remarkable, milord. Where is the statue located?” Bates asked. 

“Indonesia,” Fiske said with a pleased smile and clasped his hands together behind his back.

Bates sighed inwardly. He had been hoping that they wouldn’t have to travel somewhere that far away.


	6. Chapter 6

About two weeks later, they found themselves in the rainforests of a small and remote island in Indonesia. It had no name and didn’t appear on any modern maps, so they had had to reconstruct the route based on what Lord Fiske had read in the old book. A group of Dutch merchants had used the island as a resting point when their ship had been damaged. The captain’s log had mentioned a remarkable temple, but they had been unable to find the island again when they had come back later. 

Fiske and Bates had faired better, though the valet thought it was mostly due to incredible luck. There were thousands of similar islands all around Indonesia, and the fact that they had found the right one at their twenty-first attempt meant that fate was truly smiling upon them. 

“It’s clear nobody has been here in centuries,” he said as they made their way through the thick forest. There was nothing resembling a path, so they advanced slowly and with great difficulty, tripping over roots and having to push leaves away from their way. 

“That only means that the statue is still here, Bates,” Fiske snapped. He had been in a foul mood all day, and even the discovery of the island hadn’t brightened his spirits. He was ripping at leaves and vines, shoving them aside and cursing every time his boot got caught in something. It was like his life was depending on finding the statue as fast as possible. From the way he was treating the plants, one could have assumed the rainforest was his arch nemesis.

“And that means that there is no reason for us to hurry. Do calm down a little, milord.”

Fiske stopped and turned back to look at him. His face was covered in sweat from the effort and the humidity around them. 

“Calm down?” he repeated. “How could I possibly calm down when I’m so close? I have been hunting for this statue for months, and I’m not stopping now!” 

“I only meant that we’ll gain nothing by rushing into things, milord.”

“Well, I didn’t ask for your opinion. Do you have everything we need?” 

“I do know how to do my job,” Bates said and patted the bag he was carrying. Apart from food and other necessities, it was carrying rope, torches, a first-aid kit and small shovels and other archaeological equipment that they might need.

“Good.” That was all he got out of his master for the time being, and that was just fine with him. Bates had no particular interest in talking to the man as long as he was acting like someone had urinated into his tea. 

He glanced around in the thick forest. There wasn’t much to be seen, really, other than different shades of green everywhere. The maddening chatter of various birds filled their ears, and every now and then they could hear screeches of other animals as well, though Bates couldn’t tell what kind of creatures they belonged to.

Unlike in Africa, they had no map to guide them and had to rely on their luck and common sense to find the temple. Lord Fiske had guessed that it would be in the middle of the island, so that was where they were going. 

Though he would have never thought it possible several months back, Bates now found himself missing their adventure in Congo. It had been an exhausting trip, but Lord Fiske had been in a cheerful mood throughout it, there had been that usual pleasant banter between them, and Bates hadn’t felt like his company was nothing but a nuisance. 

He could almost say that finding the first statue in Congo had been fun. This adventure, on the other hand, had so far only managed to frustrate the both of them.

It took several hours before Lord Fiske was ready to admit that it was time for them to rest for a moment. He sat down and wiped sweat off his face, keeping his eyes fixed on the thick rainforest. The only sign of the temple that they had seen was a statue of a monkey’s head that they had encountered near the beach. 

“We should have found some marker stones by now,” Fiske growled. 

“Maybe there aren’t any. We saw only one in Congo.”

Fiske ignored his comment and turned to rest his head on his hands, they in turn leaning on his knees. He was frowning and staring at the distance like he was putting all his energy into thinking about something.

“You shouldn’t worry, milord. I’m sure we’ll find the temple soon,” Bates said. Funny, he thought. Their roles had been completely reversed in Congo. He had been the sceptic there. 

“I should hope so. I will not accept failure!” Encouraged or further angered by these words, Fiske jumped to his feet and pushed his way through thick bushes that were blocking their way. He didn’t care about the leaves that struck him in the face or that he kept stumbling every other step when his feet got caught in something. 

“Milord, wait for me!” Bates called out and hurried after his master. There was no telling what kind of trouble Lord Fiske could get himself into when he was that upset. Bates couldn’t understand what was wrong with him. They had barely started exploring the island and his master was already losing his temper? 

He had no hopes of reaching Lord Fiske when he was carrying the bag, but thankfully the man had left a clear trail behind him, and Bates was able to follow him easily. He didn’t have to do that for long, though, because after about half an hour he caught up with him. He would have missed him if Fiske hadn’t called out to him.

Lord Fiske had climbed into a tree and was looking at something that Bates couldn’t see from the ground.

“Did you find something, milord?” 

Fiske jumped down from the tree and brushed his hands against his trousers to get rid of the dirt from the bark. He looked like an entirely different man now; his face was split by a wide grin and his eyes were shining with bubbling giddiness. His sweaty and ruffled hair made him look like a boy in the middle of an exciting game. 

“The temple is right there, Bates! It’s only about a mile away!” he said and pointed towards south. 

“I told you there was no reason to worry.” 

“Yes, you were right,” Fiske admitted cheerfully. He offered to carry the bag so that they could walk faster and reach the temple before it got dark, but Bates wouldn’t hear that. The day Lord Fiske had to carry his own things was the day of Bates’s death.

“I believe I’m the one who gives the orders around here,” Fiske said, but he was still smiling, and he glanced at his valet in some amusement before starting to head towards the temple. Bates had to allow himself a smile as well. The real Lord Fiske had come back, as if nothing had ever been wrong. 

They reached the temple about an hour later. Just one glance at it told Bates that this adventure would be nothing like the one in Congo. 

The temple was covered in vines and bushes, but it looked like it was very well preserved. The door, shaped like a monkey’s mouth, was open and inviting. The area around the temple had somehow resisted the force of the nature, and there were only bushes there, not a single tree. 

Lord Fiske rubbed his hands together with glee. “This is it,” he said. “I will finally have the third statue!” He started marching towards the temple entrance. Bates followed him with more caution. He wasn’t entirely sure it was safe to rush into things, especially since they were alone in the middle of nowhere and couldn’t get any help. 

“May I accompany you into the temple, milord?” he asked. He decided it would be the best if he followed his master to make sure he didn’t step into a booby-trap and have himself killed in his excitement. 

Fiske lifted a surprised brow at him. “You haven’t done that since that Egyptian tomb.” 

“I think I have already recovered from the scorpions, milord.”

“Very well, then. Who knows, maybe I’ll need some help.” 

Bates handed Lord Fiske an electric torch from his bag. He knew they would probably have to move swiftly inside the temple, so he left the bag outside and only took another torch, some rope and a shovel with him.

“Watch your step and let me go first. I’m certain there are traps everywhere,” Fiske said. He pointed his torch onwards and moved it around to shed light on their surroundings. There was a tunnel leading underground, and the walls and floor were smooth. Not a single root or plant had broken through. 

“Then it’s you who should be careful, milord,” Bates pointed out.

Fiske chuckled. “You forget that I have cleared my way through similar temples before.” 

“The one in Congo was half-way collapsed, and the traps didn’t work anymore.”

“But you should have seen the one in China. Maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime.”

“There was a temple like this in China?” Bates asked. It wasn’t really a surprise to him because Lord Fiske had brought home the second statue, but he had thought that discovering a temple was something his master would have loved to talk about. 

“Yes, but there is no time for that now,” Fiske replied. He raised his hand to make Bates stop on his tracks. 

“What is it?”

Fiske pointed the flashlight to the end of the tunnel where they could see a sealed door. There were no obstacles in sight, but they both knew that the way to the door had to be filled with traps. Fiske picked up a stone the size of his fist and threw it at the floor. It bounced and rolled over a short distance, but nothing happened. 

“Hmm,” Fiske said, rubbing his chin in thought. He took one careful step forwards. 

“Milord, do you think that’s wise?”

“It’s the only way to get there. I know what I’m doing.” 

Bates watched with worry how Lord Fiske took another step. There were no tiles on the floor so it was impossible to know if one spot was more dangerous than the other. The valet kept pointing the light of his torch on various spots in the tunnel to find any possible clues, but he stopped this immediately when he heard a faint click. 

Fiske had heard it, too, and he leapt forwards to avoid whatever was aimed at the spot where had been standing. Only a split second later, a massive boulder dropped from the ceiling and smashed against the floor, cracking it and sending dust everywhere. 

The worst thing one could do in such situation was to stand still and ogle at what had happened, so Bates quickly backed away towards the entrance where it was safe. He heard another smash which meant that his master had set off more traps, but since there were no cries of pain or wet splats he assumed that Lord Fiske was unharmed for the time being. He didn’t dare call out in fear of distracting the man. 

Only after the falling boulders stopped did Bates have the courage to return to his earlier spot. He pointed his torch forwards and covered his mouth to keep himself from breathing the dust.

“Milord?”

“What a primitive trap! There were moving floors and death pits with acid in China,” Fiske observed from the other end of the tunnel. Bates couldn’t see him yet because of the dust, but he assumed his master had reached the sealed door. 

“I would say we’re extremely lucky, then. Are you injured?” 

“No. Only an idiot would have been caught in this one.” 

The tunnel floor was entirely smashed and covered in boulders, but there was more than enough room for one to climb over them and reach the door. Bates hesitated for a moment.

“Do you think it’s safe for me to come over there?” he asked. Part of him would have liked to go back outside, but the responsible part wanted to accompany Lord Fiske further to make sure he could get help if anything went wrong. 

“Just a moment, let me see.” 

There was the sound of scratchy steps and soon enough Lord Fiske had returned to Bates. He brushed some sand off his hair and clothes and smiled brightly at his valet. 

“See? As safe as it gets,” he said. 

“I hardly think you should have used yourself as a guinea pig, milord.”

“True, but it’s not like I had any choice. I would have had to come back at some point anyway,” Fiske said. He quickly continued, “In any case, about that door. It looks like it needs some kind of a key, which we of course don’t have. Breaking it open might set off another trap.”

He frowned unhappily. “It wouldn’t be such a problem if the tunnel wasn’t covered in boulders now. It’s impossible to move fast and avoid the new trap without twisting your ankle.”

“So, the trap was quite clever after all.”

“Yes. It made sure that someone who doesn’t have the key can’t get in.” Fiske’s lips were pursed as he pondered the problem, and Bates knew better than to bother him with his comments. He switched off his torch to save the batteries for later. 

Lord Fiske decided to go and take another look at the door. Bates followed him in silence. He supposed he should have been more upset about how they had set off that trap. Almost getting killed wasn’t part of their every day work as archaeology was actually relatively boring work, despite the popular belief of the public that had seen the Indiana Jones movies too many times. However, he knew that Lord Fiske would be in a good mood as long as they were advancing, so every trap they encountered without getting hurt was a blessing. 

They reached the door, and Bates eyed it for a moment. It was made of a single stone slab, and it had some kind of inscriptions around it and a monkey’s head in the middle. The jaws of the animal were slightly ajar and the head had to be the keyhole.

He didn’t know if there was much they could do without a key, but he was also certain that Lord Fiske would not leave the island without the statue. If nothing else worked, he’d simply put aside his work ethics and break the wall like a common tomb robber. 

“There was no need for a key in Congo or China,” Fiske muttered. “Each temple must have a different set of traps and obstacles.” 

“They certainly saw to that nobody would be able to bring the statues together.”

“That was their intention, but it’s not going to work. I’m not giving up at this point. Their power will be mine.”

“Hmm… Whatever you say, milord,” Bates said, but Fiske was no longer paying any attention to him, instead examining the door with his hands. 

Bates had decided that all this talk about destiny, mystical powers and magic had to be purely theoretical and that it was more convenient to speak as if the beliefs of the ancient tribe were real. They would never get anywhere if they stopped to mention that all of it was rubbish every time they talked about the subject. 

He noticed that Lord Fiske was running his finger down a line of inscriptions on the door. His lips were moving in silence as he carefully read the carved words to himself. 

“What does it day, milord?" 

“I’m not sure. This is not written in any language that I know, but some of the inscriptions are similar to Sanskrit. If that is the case, this here says something about greed and death,” Fiske said and pointed at a carving that was nothing but scrawl to Bates. 

“A rather usual warning in ancient temples.”

“True. There’s probably nothing worthwhile about it, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful,” Fiske said. He returned to trying to read the inscriptions. Bates knew he would be of no help there, so he decided to take a better look at their surroundings. He switched on his torch and aimed the light at the tunnel floor. 

If there had ever been any clues there, they were now buried under the fallen boulders. He turned the light up to the ceiling where the stones had fallen and did a double take. He had been expecting to see nothing but uneven rock there, but there was something else. 

“Milord, take a look at that.” 

“What is it?” Lord Fiske turned around and immediately looked up to where Bates was aiming the light at. Once he noticed what his valet had seen he, too, pointed his torch up there.

It was hard to notice at first, but there was a small opening in the ceiling, revealed only now that the boulders had fallen. It looked like the entrance of another tunnel, but the two of them couldn’t see if it actually led anywhere or it if was a dead end. 

“Interesting,” Fiske said. “Let’s pile up some of these boulders and take a look at that.”

A few minutes later they had created a mound high enough for a man to climb on it and take a look at the ceiling. Fiske took the honour and peered into the tunnel opening. 

“It’s certainly leading somewhere,” he said. He put his torch into his mouth and jumped, grabbing a hold of the edge and crawling into the small tunnel. 

“Do you think that’s wise, milord?” Bates questioned in worry. 

“What else is there to do? Wait for me here.”

“But --” Bates started, but it was too late. Lord Fiske had already disappeared into the tunnel, and all he could do was to sit back and wait. The tunnel wasn’t wide enough for him to crawl through it, so it looked like his part in the adventure was over. He sat on a boulder and sighed. 

At least this is a familiar problem, he thought. It was much easier to deal with Lord Fiske the careless explorer than Lord Fiske the frustrated sulker. 

Almost fifteen minutes went by without him hearing a thing about Fiske’s doings. Every passing moment made Bates grow more and more nervous. What would he do if Fiske didn’t come back? He couldn’t follow him, but if he left the island to get help, they would arrive too late when they came back. 

The thought of Lord Fiske lying somewhere impaled on a spike or crushed between moving walls was so unsettling that Bates had to stand up and walk around a little to clear his mind from the images. 

A sudden rumbling sound caught his attention, and he turned around to look at the sealed door. To his great surprise, he saw that it was sliding aside, slow for having remained unused for such a long time. 

“Milord!” he exclaimed when Fiske stepped through from the opening.

The man looked battered and dusty, his clothes were torn around the elbows, and his face was covered in scratches, but he looked nevertheless very pleased with himself. A smug smile was plastered on his lips and his eyes were filled with mirth. 

“It turns out that the door can be opened safely from the other side only. I think we would have found ourselves facing quite painful problems if we had done anything about it from here. A rather clever trick, I must say,” Lord Fiske said.

“Were there any traps, milord?” Bates asked. Obviously his master must have run into some trouble on the way. 

Fiske shrugged. “One floor with spikes and a falling blade. Relatively standard,” he said. “But come along, now! I discovered the chamber with the monkey statue in it, but I can’t get it without your help.”

Bates followed Fiske through the door. The tunnel behind it was much wider, the walls were decorated with carvings of monkeys, and there were delicate statues of apes every few feet. In the past they must have been holding torches which had now fallen into decay. 

“I don’t think we’ll encounter any other problems, so you can relax,” Fiske said to him when he noticed the way Bates was glancing at their surroundings. 

“It’s not the traps, milord. This whole place is unsettling.” 

“Really? I rather like it myself. Maybe I’ll build a secret monkey chamber like this at home one day.”

“I do hope you’re joking, milord.” 

“Ah, here we are,” Fiske said as they arrived at a new room. It was perfectly round and decorated with similar carvings as the tunnel. Even the monkey statues were similar, though they were much larger in the room and loomed threateningly over everyone who entered. In the middle of the room there was a round island surrounded by a deep chasm from all directions. It was slightly lower than the rest of the room, and it was there that the third monkey statue stood. 

Bates pointed the light of his torch into the chasm. “No bridge, I see.”

“No, but it’s not too wide. I can easily jump there and back. I’ll tie the rope around the statue when I’m there, and you can pull it over here.”

“And how will you get back?” Bates asked, eyeing the chasm. It would be easy to reach the statue because it was lower, but getting back might be more problematic. 

Fiske shrugged. “I can make it, Bates. Now, let’s get to work. I cannot wait to get my hands on the statue.”

Bates took the rope from around his shoulder where he had been carrying it and put down the shovel. They wouldn’t need it after all. He walked over to the edge and looked down into the chasm, but he could see nothing but darkness there. He would have liked to point the light down to see how deep it went, but he had to keep the light fixed on the monkey statue so that Lord Fiske could see where he was jumping. 

The valet frowned as he went over the plan in his mind. It was risky and there were numerous things that could go wrong with it. They should have waited a moment to see if they could come up with something safer, but he knew Lord Fiske wouldn’t even consider it now that they were so close to reaching the statue. 

“Are you absolutely certain about this, milord?” he asked one more time. 

“Yes, Bates. Keep pointing the light there. This will be over in a minute,” Fiske said with an impatient edge in his voice. 

“As you wish, milord,” Bates said, but he couldn’t silence the warning bells in his mind. He tried to reason that if they had successfully survived all the death traps so far, there was no reason to worry about something as basic as a jump. 

Lord Fiske took a few steps back, spent a moment estimating the leap and jumped. Bates’s heart skipped a beat, but he could sigh in relief when his master landed safely on the stone island, not even losing his balance. 

“I’d say the training in China paid off,” he said in satisfaction.

“Training, milord?” Bates asked, but he was ignored. Lord Fiske’s entire attention was on the stone monkey that stood in the middle of the island, and he was staring at it with eyes wide in wonder. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” he asked as he let his hand rest on the statue’s head. 

That was not a word Bates would have used to describe the item, but he didn’t want to argue about something as trivial as that. At his master’s command, he threw him the other end of the rope so that he could tie it around the statue. A few moments and several tight knots later, the artefact was ready to leave its resting place. 

“Be careful with it! If it falls into the chasm…” Fiske instructed him, his face serious for a change and his voice almost shaking. It was like they were handling his only child, not a simple statue, Bates mused. 

Bates didn’t reply because he didn’t want anything to distract him. He could imagine the rage that would take over his master if he failed at the simple task of pulling the statue to the other side. 

The statue was somewhat heavier than he had thought, so he stumbled a little when Lord Fiske let go of it. He did manage to keep his balance, but the artefact swung against the chasm wall with a faint clank that made Bates grimace and Fiske panic. 

“I said careful!” he snapped. 

The rest was child’s play, and it only took Bates about half a minute to pull the statue up. He turned the light of the torch at it to examine it in case of any damage. 

“Well?” Fiske asked impatiently from the darkness. He didn’t have a torch because he had needed his both hands free for the jump. 

“There’s barely a scratch, milord. The statue is fine.”

“Good,” Fiske sighed with relief. “Keep pointing the light on the edge so that I can see where it is.”

Since everything had gone well up to this point, Bates wasn’t feeling very worried about the rest of the adventure. He aimed the light of the torch at the ledge and waited for Lord Fiske to make it to the other side. It would be a more difficult jump because the ledge was a few feet higher than the island. Fiske would have to grab it with his hands and pull himself up.

“After this, all we need is the fourth statue. This is a lot easier than I imagined,” Fiske said cheerfully. He eyed the edge for a moment, trying to find the best spot. 

He jumped, caught a hold of the ledge and… slipped. 

Bates’s heart almost stopped beating when saw his master fall into the dark chasm, eyes wide with surprise like he couldn’t believe what was happening. A moment later, the valet could hear a faint thud, a pained yelp and then silence. 

“Milord!” 

Bates dropped on his knees and pointed the light down, hoping more than anything that the chasm wasn’t as deep as it looked like, or that Lord Fiske had managed to grab a hold of something, or that there was plant life down there, or that – 

The light didn’t quite reach the bottom, but he was certain that he could make out the blurry form of his master down there. For a moment, he felt like the blood in his veins had frozen, but then he could see slight movement. 

Thank God he’s not dead, he thought. 

“Milord, are you alright?” he asked in a shaking voice. “Milord?”

“Yes… I’m fine,” came a reply. Fiske sounded out of breath, air having been knocked out of his lungs by the impact and the shock he had to be in. 

“You aren’t injured?” Bates asked in surprise. What a stroke of luck!

There was no answer for a moment and the valet guessed Lord Fiske needed time to adjust his thoughts, catch his breath and make sure everything was as it was supposed to be. Bates could hear a scraping sound, and he saw Fiske stumble to his feet. 

“I landed badly on my hand. I think it might be broken,” he stated. His voice sounded blank, as if he was observing something that had nothing to do with him. It would take a moment before the pain and reality finally kicked in. 

Bates supposed that they were still relatively lucky that nothing worse had happened. “I’ll tie a torch to the rope and send it down there. There might be a way out of there,” he said. He tried to be as fast as possible, but his fingers chose that moment to become clumsy, and it took him almost five minutes before he had untied the rope from around the statue and sent a torch down to Lord Fiske. 

“Well?” he asked after a moment. 

“I don’t think you can climb up from here. It’s smooth stone all over,” Fiske said. He sounded angry now, and Bates could very well imagine the frustrated scowl on his face. 

“Then I’ll have to lower you the rope. How is your hand?” 

“Useless and hurts like the apocalypse. I can’t even move my fingers.”

Their options were limited, so Bates tied a loop into the rope so that Fiske could slip his way through it. He doubted he had the strength to actually pull the other man up, but they had to try. Lord Fiske could always try to help by using is uninjured hand.

He drew a deep breath and made sure his hold on the rope was as good as possible before he pulled. It was a good thing that Lord Fiske wasn’t a very heavy man and that Bates wasn’t stranger to physical labour, but the strain on his arms was nevertheless almost too much. His palms were burning like the skin was being ripped off, and he was certain that he’d lose his hold any second. 

Then the weigh became less and he noticed that Lord Fiske had caught a hold of the ledge with his healthy hand. Despite his own exhaustion, Bates hurried to help and grabbed a hold of Fiske’s jacket, pulling him up from the chasm. 

For a moment neither said anything. They panted to catch their breath, and Bates rubbed his palms together to ease the stinging pain in them. A second later he remembered Lord Fiske’s injury and he hurried to point the light of the torch at it. 

“Let me see that, milord,” he said, but Fiske pulled his hand away with a hiss. 

“There’s no time for it now. Let’s get out of here.”

Bates very much agreed with that, so he let Lord Fiske have the torch while he picked up the monkey statue. He shot a glare at the item as he wrapped it under his arm. All this trouble because of an old piece of stone. 

It was already almost dark when they came outside, and they decided they didn’t want to walk through the rainforest at night, so they set their camp by the temple. As soon as he was done setting up a fire, Bates wanted to do what he thought had been their most important task in the first place. 

“About that hand, milord,” he started. 

Lord Fiske looked up from the statue that he had been examining. Bates didn’t for a minute believe that he had actually forgotten about the injury or that it didn’t bother him. Fiske simply had the annoying habit of keeping things like that to himself.

“I’m afraid there is not much you can do about it,” Fiske said as he let Bates have a look. 

Bates was no doctor, but he could see that the man was right. The whole hand was swollen, some of the fingers were twisted in unnatural positions, and it looked like the wrist could be broken as well. There was nothing to be done without medical equipment or knowledge, and they had neither. 

“I can’t believe I was so careless!” Fiske snapped. “I was so close, but my hands simply slipped! If I had been more agile, or younger, I could have easily made it.”

“It was a very long jump, milord,” Bates pointed out. 

“Nevertheless, this was a massive mistake from my part. How am I supposed to retrieve the fourth statue if I can’t even survive a leap like that?” Fiske asked. He turned to glare at his hands with an irritated expression masking his face. 

Bates knew it would take a long while before his master was healed and they could go and find the last statue. “Humans aren’t meant for jumping around like that,” he said, hoping that it might brighten Fiske’s mood a little. 

“No, we aren’t,” Fiske muttered. He turned his hands around to stare at the backs of his palms. After a moment, he put his hands down and shook his head to rid himself of the frustration and pain.

“I’m afraid we don’ have any painkillers with us,” Bates said. 

“No matter. I won’t need them,” Fiske said. He crossed his legs, took a deep breath and closed his eyes. 

Bates watched him for a moment.

“Uh, milord?”

Fiske didn’t open his eyes, but he frowned in irritation at being interrupted. “Meditation, Bates. It helps me concentrate and keeps the pain away,” he said. His restrained tone suggested that if Bates knew what was good for him, he’d shut up and not bother his master anymore.

It must be something he picked up in China, Bates thought as he looked at Lord Fiske’s still form. He didn’t know what to think of it, but it couldn’t be bad if it really helped, which it seemed to be doing. The pained lines on Fiske’s face smoothed slowly, and after a while it looked like he was sleeping. 

Bates sat down and leaned his back against a tree, watching the flames of the fire. Only now could he allow himself to truly relax, and he realised how close to death they had been that day. For a short, horrible moment he had thought that Lord Fiske was dead and that he’d have to scrape his smashed remains into a box to be taken home. How terrible and ironic it would have been, seeing the man ruined because of something he loved so much. 

Bates shuddered despite the fire and forced the macabre thought away from his mind.


	7. Chapter 7

“Bates, have you ever thought about what it would be like to be a monkey?”

Bates looked up from the newspaper he was reading, not sure if he had heard right. “I’m sorry, milord?” 

Lord Fiske turned to look at him and waved his right hand, now covered in bandages and entirely useless for weeks to come. 

“Monkeys have very flexible fingers. If I had been like that, I wouldn’t have to sit here and do nothing right now.”

“In theory, yes, but…”

“And what of the future? I was lucky this time as my idiotic mistake didn’t cost more than this, but what about next time? What will happen when we go retrieve the fourth statue? What about after that? I’m not a young man anymore, and no amount of martial arts training will make me faster or more agile,” Fiske continued. 

“I’m afraid that’s part of growing old, milord.”

“Hmph. How pathetic. Being reduced to a useless cripple before I have even had the chance to reach my full potential,” Fiske muttered and made a dramatic gesture with his healthy hand. He returned his attention to the book he was reading, but he turned the page so seldom that Bates knew his mind wasn’t into it. 

After spending the night on the temple island, they had swiftly travelled to the closest island with civilization to have Lord Fiske’s hand looked at. It had become worse during the night, and Bates had felt his stomach turn simply from seeing the swollen, purplish thing that had once been a healthy hand. Fiske had understandably been bothered by it as well, talking in angry snaps and sulking to himself with a pained scowl on his face. 

They had eventually found an island with a competent doctor on it. The man had mistaken them for two idiotic tourists, which had suited them just fine at the moment. They didn’t exactly have authorised permission to go exploring and take ancient artefacts out of the country. 

Lord Fiske’s broken hand had been looked at, and it had turned out he had been lucky. The hand would heal completely in time if he didn’t do anything stupid with it. Bates had expected Fiske to shrug this off, but to his surprise the man took the instructions seriously. The valet was of course glad about this sudden burst of sensibility, so he said nothing. 

Right now they were looking forward to several very unremarkable weeks. Bates hadn’t heard Lord Fiske talk about the monkey statues in more than passing since they had returned from Indonesia. He was very relieved about this. Maybe the injury had snapped his master back to reality and made him realise that this research was not as important as it had first seemed. 

“There has to be something I can do. This body is holding me back from achieving everything that I have planned,” Fiske continued after a while, not being able to concentrate on reading. 

“Maybe our next adventure could be locating the fountain of youth, milord,” Bates commented before he could stop himself. He received a murderous glare from his master in return. 

“I do no appreciate jokes at a time likes this, Bates,” Fiske warned sternly. 

“My apologies, but I must say I don’t think there is much to be done. And besides, what happened in Indonesia was an accident. You’re far from being ruined, milord.”

“Maybe so,” Fiske said as he turned to look at his hand, “but it could happen again next time. Knowing Tai Shing Pek Kwar gives me an advantage, but I must be prepared for everything.”

“It’s a pity you aren’t a monkey, milord.” Bates felt a little bad about his own cheerfulness because it was at his master’s expense, but the lack of any monkey-related shenanigan was a great relief. He would be the happiest man in England if they never went after the fourth statue. 

Lord Fiske didn’t get the joke. “Indeed,” he sighed. “How much easier it would be to explore ancient temples if I were. And can you imagine what it would do to my martial arts?”

If Bates had been a more humorous man, he might have entertained himself with the image of his master engaging in a battle of monkey kung fu with a tail and a coat of fur. However, since he liked to think he was more professional than that, he merely shrugged. 

“I’m sure it would be marvellous, milord. It is unfortunate things like that only happen in comic books.” 

“Yes, you’re quite right about that,” Fiske muttered. For a moment he tapped his chin with his finger, but eventually he returned to reading the book in his lap. 

There was nothing but silence for the next half an hour, and Bates cherished every second of it. In the past they had spent many afternoons like this, each of them reading something of their interest and only talking when some passing thought penetrated their mind. Ever since the business with the monkey statues had started, these moments had become increasingly rare and Fiske spent most of his time in his study. Maybe things would stay like this now that his master had to remain still for quite some time. 

He snapped out his thought when he heard the sharp bang of Lord Fiske closing his book. 

“You’re finished, milord?” Bates asked. 

“No, and I don’t intend to be. This is the worst piece of trash I’ve ever had to read in my life. I don’t understand why Cecil keeps sending me these.” 

He tossed the book into the fireplace. 

Bates watched how the flames instantly attacked the novel and started licking its covers. “It did sell quite well,” he pointed out. 

“Anything with that much sex and violence in it is destined to dominate all bestseller lists,” Fiske said in irritation. He viewed the book’s swift destruction with a satisfied gleam in his eyes. 

“Right. Of course.”

Lord Fiske leaned back in his chair and released a sigh. “I think the fourth statue might be in Cambodia.”

“So, you still insist on finding it, milord?”

“But of course! Why? Did you think otherwise?” 

“Well, I assumed you might be reluctant to pursue this research after what happened in Indonesia. Your worry about further injuries made me think you might want to give up,” Bates said. At least, it was what he had hoped. 

Fiske chuckled. “Don’t make me laugh, Bates! Nothing will stop me now that I’ve made it this far. I only need to step back for a moment and reconsider my plan. The following weeks will give me plenty of time to do that.”

“And once I have all four monkeys…” he trailed off. 

“Milord?” Bate asked carefully.

“Then I won’t have to worry about anything slowing me down ever again!” Fiske declared this to the massive painting above the fireplace, like he felt the need to defy the heavens. 

“I’m sorry?” Bates asked in bewilderment. 

Fiske turned to look at him with an almost sheepish grin on his face. He blinked for a moment, gathering his thoughts and looking like he had forgotten his valet’s presence for a short moment.

“Never mind that,” he said. “You will see what I mean when our work is done.”

For a moment Bates just stared, wondering if his master had snapped all of a sudden, but then he could no longer hold back half a chuckle. It was so much like Lord Fiske to get overly melodramatic about his work. There was no way he could truly believe in any sort of Mystical Monkey Power.

“You think I’m joking, don’t you?” Fiske asked and stopped to shoot an annoyed glare at his valet.

“I’m sorry, milord, but all of this sounds ludicrous. If you want my advice, you should stop worrying about the accident and focus your energy on something else,” Bates replied.

“Like what?” Fiske asked. He was looking very miffed now, frowning and looking at the shorter man like he was the greatest idiot on Earth. 

Before Bates had the time to suggest any pleasant pastime activities, Lord Fiske continued, “I think you fail to realise that we’re dealing with a very grave matter here. If you have no interest in assisting me, I will have to work alone.” 

“Of course I will do everything I can to help you, milord. I simply don’t see what we can do at the moment,” Bates said. He was already regretting his earlier cheerfulness. He knew he should have remembered that Lord Fiske didn’t like being the victim of any kind of ridicule. 

“We will have to discover something that’ll make sure that this,” Lord Fiske showed his hand to Bates, “does not happen again.”

And they were back to that topic. Bates suppressed a sigh and wondered why his master simply couldn’t let things be and forget all about problems that he couldn’t solve. 

Bates supposed it was natural that Fiske was upset about the incident in Indonesia. It was years since he had last been injured on an expedition, and it had to have hurt his pride the most. What Bates thought but what he hadn’t said was that the accident could have been easily avoided if Fiske had been more level-headed and not so eager to find the statue so fast. He suspected that Fiske knew it as well but was trying to put the blame somewhere else. 

“You should focus on relaxing now, milord. Everything will be back to normal in no time,” he said. 

“How could I ever relax when there’s so much to do? You still don’t understand my problem, Bates,” Fiske snapped. For a moment he looked like there was something he wanted to add, but he decided otherwise and marched off to his study. The only good side Bates saw in that was that they had already moved all three monkey statues to the secret room. Fiske wouldn’t be able to stare at them and become even angrier in his study. 

He must be bored out of his mind, he thought. That was the only explanation for the snappiness and ridiculous ideas that his master was suffering from. Until it became reality, one never realised how little there was to do with only one hand, and how restricted life could be when one had to watch every move one made.

***

Lord Fiske’s mood didn’t improve overnight. In fact, he looked even grimmer when Bates served him breakfast. He kept scowling at the utensils; first the teacup because he had to use his left hand to lift it and then the fork because he couldn’t use it before putting the cup down first.

“I never realised how annoying it is when you can’t drink tea and eat eggs at the same time,” he muttered. 

Bates remained silent. It was for the best to say absolutely nothing unless he was directly addressed. He kept glancing at his annoyed master and wondering if the day would be yet another string of hours with nothing to do. He had been trying to come up with something interesting for Lord Fiske, but it was a rather difficult task because of the man’s lack of close friends and interests that didn’t require the use of both hands.

He glanced at the newspaper that remained untouched on the table. Bates hadn’t seen Fiske read the paper even once since they had returned from Indonesia. He supposed that his master didn’t want to show him how much trouble even a task like that could be with just a left hand. 

A small headline caught his attention, and he picked up the paper. He unfolded it and quickly scanned the news item. 

“Something interesting?” Fiske asked.

“It’s about the zoo, milord. Mr Abercroft has managed to acquire a rare orangutan from Sumatra,” Bates explained. He showed Lord Fiske the paper and a picture of the animal.

“Hm, that’s interesting. I didn’t know Abercroft was still in business.”

“I dare say he’s not going to leave the zoo until he dies,” Bates said. 

Nigel Abercroft was an old family friend, or he had been back when Lord Fiske’s father had been alive. Fiske had never shown much interest in keeping in touch with his father’s friends, even though he was also interested in zoology. Bates had always found Abercroft a pleasant man, so he thought it was a pity they were no longer in contact with him. 

“How old is he already? My father can’t have been much older than him,” Fiske said.

“I believe he’s in his seventies, milord,” Bates said. He glanced at his master who was still reading the paper. Maybe this news would spark some interest in Lord Fiske and bring some much needed diversity in his life.

“And he’s still going strong, I might add,” he continued swiftly. 

Lord Fiske regarded him with a sly smile on his face. “Are you insinuating something?” he asked, having seen through Bates’s comment right away. 

“Only that if someone as old as him hasn’t lost his touch, there is absolutely no need for you to worry about anything, milord.”

“Ah, but you forget that everyone always says I’ve taken after my mother. For all we know, I could be dead tomorrow.”

“Please don’t say such macabre things, milord. That it not a joking matter,” Bates said. 

Fiske put down his empty teacup. “No, it isn’t,” he simply said and started playing with the offending fork. 

Bates frowned and wondered whether he should speak or wait if Lord Fiske wanted to continue that line of thought. After a few seconds it became obvious that his master was too lost in his thoughts to notice much else. 

“You aren’t still thinking about what you said yesterday, are you, milord?” he asked. 

“As a matter of fact, I am still bothered by my inability to ensure that no more accidents will slow me down,” Fiske said, tapping at the table with the fork.

“Maybe you should forget all about it, milord. There is no need to bother yourself with needless ideas.”

“Well, there isn’t very much else for me to do is, there?” Fiske snapped. He threw the fork on the table with a disgusted sigh. 

Bates glanced at the newspaper. “Might I suggest visiting Mr Abercroft? It has been years since you last talked, and I’m sure he’d love to discuss the matter of the orangutan.”

“Hmm, not a bad idea,” Fiske muttered. “Maybe I’ll ring him later today.”

***

To Bates’s satisfaction, Lord Fiske did just that, and the two of them travelled to London a few days later. They had agreed to meet Abercroft at the zoo where they could take a look at the orangutan, even though the animal was not yet available for public.

“There you are! It’s good to see you!” Abercroft bellowed as soon as he caught sight of Fiske and Bates. 

“Yes, it’s been too long,” Fiske replied with a pleasant smile. 

It was years since Bates had last seen Nigel Abercroft, but he thought the man looked exactly like before. He was still tall, strong and vigorous, and the only details that betrayed his old age were the cane he carried and the wrinkles that deepened on his face whenever he smiled, which was often. The joyful twinkle in his brown eyes looked like it should have belonged to someone fifty years younger. 

“You can say that again. It’s been over six years since I last dropped by the castle, hasn’t it?” Abercroft asked.

“It was after father’s funeral, I think,” Fiske added. 

“Ah, yes.” Abercroft cleared his throat. “Anyway, what have you been up to? I hear you stopped working for the museum.”

“I’m keeping my distance at the moment, yes. I’ve been conducting private research, and I don’t currently have the time for anything else.”

“You’ll have to tell me about it later. It has to be some truly fascinating if it can tear you away from your work,” Abercroft said. His attention turned to Lord Fiske’s bandaged hand, and he pointed at it with lifted brows. 

“What did you do to yourself?” he asked. 

Fiske lifted the hand and shrugged dismissively. “I had a little accident in Indonesia. Nothing to be worried about, though life tends to be tedious when you’re recovering.”

Abercroft laughed and tapped the tip of his cane against the ground. “Tell me about it. My doctor keeps telling me that I shouldn’t travel anymore, but what does he know? Laying low is a fate worse than death for any man.” 

Bates noted how Lord Fiske’s smile wavered a little at that, but it was such a brief moment that Abercroft didn’t notice it. Bates would have thought he had imagined the whole thing if he hadn’t known the reason behind the swift slip. 

Lord Fiske’s father, the respected zoologist Gregory Fiske, had died a little over six years ago when exploring South American rainforests in search of a rare species of frogs. The expedition hadn’t received proper funding, and everybody had told him it was pure insanity to go there alone, but the old Fiske had demonstrated the infamous stubbornness of his family and said that he wasn’t going to waste his life by drinking tea and eating crumpets in front of the fireplace. 

Two weeks later, he had come back home in a casket and with a bite from a poisonous spider in this thigh.

“Well, at least he remained true to the family tradition,” had been Fiske’s first words when viewing the body of his father. 

“More like the family curse,” Bates had muttered. For generations, the Fiske men had been infamous for that very few of them ever died of natural causes. Most of them got killed when having dangerous adventures and refusing to listen to reason, and the matter had become something of a morbid joke among still living family members. 

Despite Lord Fiske’s apparent lack of reaction, Bates had known that the man had been deeply bothered by his father’s death. He simply didn’t show it like others, and even if he cried, he did it in private. 

Abercroft’s words had struck a chord, but Fiske kept smiling and chatting happily about unimportant topics as they walked. Bates kept his distance to the two men because he wanted to give them peace to get re-acquainted after all the years, and he didn’t want to look like he was eavesdropping. He did keep an eye on them, though, and was happy to note that for once Lord Fiske seemed genuinely interested in something that was not a monkey statue. 

After a while they reached a private area where they were keeping the orangutan. The animal was in a massive cage with trees, hay and everything that any captured ape could ask for. At the moment, it was sitting on a trunk and playing with something it had in its hands. 

“Isn’t that magnificent!” Fiske said as he caught the first glimpse of the ape. The Sumatran orangutan was critically endangered, so he had never before had the chance to see one in real life.

Abercroft beamed with pride. “That’s right. We have no idea what the fellow’s name is, but we’ve decided to call him Edward.”

“You mean you didn’t purchase him from another zoo?” Fiske asked with a frown. Bates, too, recalled that the paper hadn’t made a mention of the orangutan’s origins. 

“No. I’m afraid Edward was found when a group of poachers was discovered and arrested. He’s perfectly tame, so we think he would have ended up in very wrong hands if luck hadn’t been on our side,” Abercroft said.

“And then this magnificent creature would have ended up in some billionaire’s private collection,” Fiske mused unhappily. 

“Or worse. We have reason to believe that the poachers were delivering animals for genetic experimentation,” Abercroft said with a shake of his head. 

“Really? Why would anybody want to use orangutans? They're much too rare and expensive to be wasted like that.”

“Who knows? People are insane,” Abercroft remarked. 

Lord Fiske concentrated on observing Edward for the next couple of moments, so Abercroft used this opportunity to address Bates. The valet couldn’t say he was surprised; Abercroft had always treated everyone as equal regardless of their social status or wealth. 

“Bates, old chap! Still haven’t retired after all this time, I see,” he said. That coming from someone around twenty years older than him amused Bates somewhat, but he supposed Abercroft was the livelier one of the two of them. 

“I think I’ll remain in service for as long as I live, sir.”

“That’s a good attitude. Nowadays it seems like everyone wants to step back when they hit fifty. I can’t imagine what they do with their lives after that,” Abercroft said. He made a little gesture with his cane, as if to prove that he still had the agility to handle it and that he didn’t have to keep leaning on it to stand. 

“I believe they just want to dedicate their time to peace and quiet, sir.”

Edward had moved to the other end of his room where there was food for him, and Lord Fiske had followed to get a better look. Because of the distance and his keen interest in the ape, it was unlikely that he would hear a word of what Bates and Abercroft were talking about. 

“Peace and quiet? Bah! That’s overrated. A man isn’t really alive if he can’t get high on adrenaline every now and then,” Abercroft barked. “I’ve had to stop exploring jungles myself, but if I were a few years younger… Oh, how lucky Monty is.”

“Indeed, though I wish his Lordship took it a little more slowly sometimes,” Bates admitted. What he left unsaid was that he hoped Fiske wouldn’t end up sharing the fate of many others in his family. Abercroft nodded briefly, having understood the silent remark. 

“That hand, right? He was a little vague when I asked about it. Tell me, what really happened?” 

Bates shifted uncomfortably and glanced to his side, feeling torn between gossiping about Lord Fiske’s business and confining in an old family friend. Normally he wouldn’t have even considered answering the question, but Abercroft had been such a close friend and colleague of Fiske’s father that refusing him made him feel guilty. 

“I’m not sure if Lord Fiske would want me to discuss this topic without his approval.”

“So, it’s related to this personal research his conducting, then?”

Bates cursed the old man’s brain for being functional despite its age. “I didn’t say that, sir.” 

Abercroft regarded him with a clever look in his eyes, all the while smiling like he knew much more than he was letting on. After an uncomfortable moment that felt like minutes for Bates, the older man shook his head. 

“I understand you don’t want to betray his trust, and you’re right putting him before anything else. I’m just curious about what he has been doing for the past years. At my age, you don’t have many living friends anymore. I do hope he’s going to keep in touch after this and not just abuse my hospitality in order to see Edward.”

“Oh, I’m certain that you will hear from Lord Fiske again, sir,” Bates hurried to promise. He hadn’t even thought that Abercroft might be lonely; the man had always seemed so cheerful and full of life. 

Abercroft’s smile faded a little and he glanced over his shoulder to make sure Fiske was still a fine distance away from them. The old man stepped a little closer to Bates and looked at him like they were about to start conspiring about something. 

“You don’t think he blames me, do you?” he asked in a low tone.

“Sir?”

“His father’s accident. I was supposed to go with Gregory, but in the end I had to stay here because of family matters. I sometimes think that if I had accompanied him…” Abercroft said and let his voice go down. The worried frown on his face made Bates wonder if the old man had been bothered by this uncertain guilt for the past six years. 

“Oh, no, sir. Everybody knows the late lord should have postponed the research until the time was better. I have never heard Lord Fiske blame anyone but his father for what happened,” he hurried to explain.

Abercroft didn’t look entirely convinced. “I thought the two of us always got along well, but he has completely distanced himself from me. I thought he might be angry with me.”

“His Lordship has dedicated most of his time to his work. He doesn’t keep closely in touch even with his family,” Bates assured. As he had guessed, hearing that didn’t exactly make Abercroft look happier. 

“I don’t think Gregory would have approved that.”

Bates offered no comment. Even if Lord Fiske couldn’t hear it, he didn’t want to criticize any of his actions of decisions to anyone.

“Well, if his research really is that important… Just make sure he doesn’t end up like Charles Dexter Ward,” Abercroft said, and his usual smile returned to his face. 

Bates was about to ask what the old man meant by that, but that was the moment when Lord Fiske decided to return to them. He was wearing the kind of smile that always meant he was very pleased in himself for some reason, but Bates had no idea what it could be this time. 

“So, you like Edward?” Abercroft asked.

“Yes, he’s a fine creature,” Fiske replied. “Did you see those feet, Bates? He could grab anything with them. It’s a shame the human foot evolved into a different direction.”

“We got the ability to walk upright, so I think it’s a fair trade,” Abercroft commented. Bates agreed, but he decided to stand back again and let the two men do most of the talking.

They left the ape house and started walking down the path with no real goal in mind. Lord Fiske and Abercroft got into talking about the zoo and what new animals were about to be added. Bates had no real interest in the topic, so he was only half-listening and preferred looking around. There wasn’t much to see because it was winter and not all animals could be kept outside. 

“So, what are you doing now that you have to lie low for a while?” Abercroft asked and pointed the tip of his cane at Fiske’s bandaged hand. 

The younger man sighed in irritation. “Absolutely nothing. My research demands me to travel, but there’s not much point in that until I can use both hands.” 

“True enough, and it is wise to be careful with a hand injury. Once you wreck your hands once, you can’t grow new ones,” Abercroft said.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

The two of them exchanged a few more words before it was time for Fiske and Bates to return home. Bates was glad about how the day had turned out to be, and he was certain that Lord Fiske would be in better spirits at least for the next couple of days. 

“Do drop by again sometime. It’s not good for you to lose all contact with your friends,” Abercroft said as they parted. 

“I will, and you’re welcome to visit me at the castle any time you wish to.” Fiske glanced at Bates from the corner of his eye, and the valet shifted a little. He wondered if Fiske had heard what he and Abercroft had talked about after all. 

“I hope this was an interesting visit, milord,” he said once they were in the car and on their way back home. 

“Oh, it was,” Fiske replied. He was staring out the window with a thoughtful frown on his face. 

“Maybe we should invite Mr Abercroft for dinner some time,” Bates suggested, remembering what the old man had said earlier. “I’m sure he would have many stories to tell.”

“Yes, maybe,” Fiske muttered absent-mindedly. 

Bates knew then that something had caught his master’s attention again and that he probably wouldn’t get anything coherent out of him until he was done thinking. He could only hope that the thought currently occupying Fiske’s mind was something productive and less ludicrous than his other recent ideas.


	8. Chapter 8

Bates was in for a surprise when he entered Lord Fiske’s study a few days after their visit to the zoo. Instead of sitting hunched over some thick and ancient volume, his master was using his laptop. He kept trying to type with one hand, scowling stubbornly and muttering under his breath every time he made a typo. 

Did he always have such anger management problems, Bates wondered as he viewed the frustrated look on Fiske’s face. 

“Milord?”

“I’m busy. Come back later,” Fiske snapped, not even lifting his eyes from the screen. 

“As you wish, milord,” Bates said and quickly left the room. He had no idea what Lord Fiske could suddenly want from the Internet. He never used it unless the sources he was after were not available in paper form, and this was usually the case only when he wanted to read documents that were located in some other country. 

Bates had been hoping that visiting Abercroft and seeing the orangutan would have cheered up his master, and to some extent this had worked. Lord Fiske had stopped sulking and complaining about his situation, but now he spent all his time either deep in thought or writing down notes about something he didn’t want to share with Bates. In theory that was not any different from how he had been acting for the past months, but the valet was fairly certain that this time it was not about the four monkey statues. 

If Lord Fiske had finally found a new object of fascination, Bates would have very much liked to know what it was. He doubted it could be as suspicious and time-consuming as the statues, but he liked being prepared for everything.

He stopped to stare at the fireplace in the lounge as he passed it. It felt unsettling to know that there was a secret room with three of the troublesome statues hidden behind it. The statues didn’t really stand out among the other artefacts in the castle, but the fact that Lord Fiske had deemed it necessary to hide them from the world was what bothered him. 

He’s almost paranoid about someone else finding out about them, Bates mused as he shook his head and left the lounge. He couldn’t understand why anyone else would even be interested in the topic. Even if someone did share Lord Fiske’s fascination, why was that such a problem? Fiske had always been enthusiastic about sharing the results of his research, but now he was taking every necessary step to make sure that the monkey statues were his and his alone. 

There was only one medicine to the snappy, secretive behaviour. Lord Fiske needed to go back to the museum and continue his real work, maybe attend a conference or two and write a paper to some professional journal. That would make him snap out of his current state of mind, but Bates knew it wasn’t a good idea to even suggest that before they were done with the mystical monkey statues.

Thank heavens there is only one left, he thought. 

It would be a while before they would be able to travel to Cambodia, but after that the whole ordeal would finally be over. Lord Fiske could finish his research and then hopefully forget all about the statues and the myths behind them. The biggest obstacle at the moment was to wait until Fiske’s hand was healed to the point that he could safely go exploring again. 

Bates was no expert when it came to medical matters, and he didn’t know what the doctor had said to his master. He could recall Thomas breaking his hand in some kind of accident some years in the past. It had taken months for the bones to heal, but the hand had been aching on and off for almost a year afterwards. All of this would just add to Lord Fiske’s growing irritation.

***

Bates spent the rest of the day doing his chores and reading. There was not much for him to do at the castle in his spare time, so in that regard being the only servant and in charge of everything was a blessing. He didn’t hear from Lord Fiske, but he assumed afternoon tea would be served at the usual time. Maybe his master would then see it fit to say what he was doing with such concentration.

“I hope I’m not bothering, milord,” he said when he took the tea service to the room.

Lord Fiske was still sitting in front of his laptop, but he turned to look at Bates when he heard him arrive. His smug and self-satisfied smirk revealed that he had had success with whatever he had been doing. 

“Not at all. I was actually going to call for you. There’s something we have to start planning.”

“Oh?” Bates said in mild interest.

“Yes. I have managed to locate a very special person whom I would very much like to meet,” Fiske said as he took a cup and sipped the tea. 

“Really, milord? Who is he? Does he know something about the mystical monkey statues?”

Fiske dipped a crumpet into the tea. “No, this has absolutely nothing to do with Mystical Monkey Power, at least not directly,” he said to Bates’s great relief. This had to be a good sign. Lord Fiske was finally getting interested in something else than those relics. 

“And besides,” Fiske continued, “she is very much female.” He turned his laptop around so that Bates could see the screen and the image of a woman that was displayed on it. 

The valet almost did a double take at the sight of her. It wasn’t that she was ugly, but the combination of a pink sweater, short and plump stature, neatly cut black hair and a wide, toothy grin was something he didn’t see every day. She didn’t look very feminine, and yet at the same time he got the feeling that she was the most sugary creature he would ever meet. 

“And this lady is…?” he asked uncertainly. He assumed that if Lord Fiske had spent the entire day looking at online dating services, he would have found someone a little more conventional.

Fiske didn’t seem to notice his valet’s doubts, or at least he didn’t care. “This is Ms Amy Hall. She’s one of the world’s foremost geneticists.”

Bates tore his eyes from Amy’s image and glanced warily at his master. Why would Lord Fiske ever want to meet a scientist? He had never been interested in the latest discoveries of any branch of science or technology. Then the idea hit him. 

“You wish to consult her, then, milord?”

Fiske lifted his brows in surprise. “You’ve already guessed what I’m going to ask her about?” he wondered in puzzlement. 

“I think it’s fairly obvious, milord,” Bates with some self-satisfaction. “You were curious when Mr Abercroft mentioned that the orangutan might have been meant for genetic experiments.”

“What? Oh. Yes, that’s right. I’m going to ask Ms Hall’s opinion on that matter and… inquire what purposes any scientist would like to have an orangutan for,” Fiske said with a light-hearted chuckle. He turned the laptop back to himself and typed something with his left hand. 

“And where does Ms Hall live?” Bates asked. 

“America, but that’s not going to be a problem. She will be attending a conference in London in two week’s time.”

“Ah, more scientists,” Bates said. 

A sheepish grimace appeared on Lord Fiske’s face. “Not exactly,” he said, sounding doubtful for the first time during their exchange. He finished typing the new URL and let Bates see the screen again. 

“Cuddle Buddies?” the valet read out loud once the site was done loading. He was rewarded with a shockingly bright colour scheme and more images of plush hybrids of various animals than he cared to see in his life. 

“I’ve discovered that Ms Hall is one of the world’s leading collectors of these… dolls,” Fiske said, taking a small pause when he simply couldn’t bring himself to pronounce the brand name. “There is going to be a massive convention in London where they’re going to release a new Europe-only toy, the Pengsel. It’s some kind of penguin and weasel abomination, but that’s not important. The point is that…” he drifted off when he noticed the blank stare Bates was giving him. 

“I’m sorry, milord, but did you spend the whole day researching that?” 

“It’s important! I looked at Ms Hall’s curriculum vitae, and though she seems to be in some kind of trouble with her university at the moment, she has accomplished more than most people in their entire lives. I believe she must be a very intelligent and professional woman, and I know these scientist types. She would never be interested in listening to the problems of a layman, even of someone with my title and status.”

Bates glanced at the hypnotic website of the sickening toys. “So, you’re planning to take up, um, cuddling in order to impress her?”

“Absolutely not!” Fiske snapped, insulted by the very idea. “I’m simply going to purchase a valuable collectible at the convention and present it to her. She can’t refuse me then, and once I’m done talking to her, I will have convinced her to help me.”

“I suppose it does make sense, milord,” Bates admitted, but he was not completely sure of the idea. Charming women wasn’t exactly Lord Fiske’s expertise, and this Amy Hall character didn’t look like she’d fit into his world.

“Good that you see it my way,” Fiske said. 

“But wouldn’t it still be easier to ring her and ask her if she could spare you some time?”

“I know perfectly well what I’m doing, and if I need your opinion, I will ask for it!” Fiske snapped, making Bates lift his brows in surprise. What had he done this time? It was just an innocent and sensible suggestion, and there was no reason to get so aggravated about it.

“Are you not feeling well, milord?” 

“Yes. The only problem I’m having is that I’m tired of everyone questioning my decisions. I have a plan, and I know it will work,” Lord Fiske replied. He was glaring at Bates with a scowl that didn’t ask for any further comments on the subject. 

“My apologies, milord,” Bates offered quickly, though he had to wonder what exactly was wrong. While Lord Fiske could be very moody when it suited him, he was rarely annoyed that easily. 

“Never mind. Make sure to mark the convention down in my calendar,” Fiske said as he turned his attention back to the laptop. 

Bates didn’t think there was any reason to do that since Fiske no longer took part in anything that didn’t involve the monkey statues, and there was more than enough room in the man’s schedule. He wanted to point this out, but the outburst from a few moments ago made him too careful to do it.

“Shall I also set a date for a dinner with Mr Abercroft? I think it might be a good idea to invite him over sometime.”

“Whatever suits you.”

“You don’t wish to make plans?” 

Lord Fiske let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m busy with this right now. You know how to arrange everything if you want to have Nigel here, so quit bothering me with needless nonsense!” he barked. 

For a moment, Bates could just stand there and look at the angry gleam in Fiske’s eyes. He was used to harsh words, and these were not even close to the worst Lord Fiske had ever said to him, but the way he had said that hurt the valet in a way that he couldn’t describe. It was like he and his opinions were nothing but a necessary pain that Fiske had to endure for the time being because it wasn’t important enough to even get rid of him. 

He swallowed. “Very well, milord,” he said stiffly and retreated from the room before he could do or say something that he would no doubt regret only seconds later. 

“What in God’s name is wrong with him?” he asked out loud once he was safely in his kitchen sanctuary. Having such drastic mood swings was not usual for Lord Fiske, and Bates couldn’t recall any other time when the man had been this unstable. He could no longer blame that injured hand and the resulted boredom on the change in his master’s behaviour. Everything had started long before they had discovered the third statue. 

It’s the statues, Bates thought darkly. He tried to think back to the time when they had found the first one and remember when exactly Lord Fiske had started showing signs of change. Getting completely captivated by his research was not odd, but becoming entirely cut off from the rest of his life was. 

China. That had to be it. Something had happened in China. The results had taken their time to show clearly, but Bates was certain that something during that cursed trip had affected his master much more than he had ever guessed. If only he had been able to accompany Fiske and be his voice of reason… If only he knew what had happened. 

Like a treacherous snake, his thoughts slithered to the diary he had discovered by accident among Lord Fiske’s luggage. There lay answers to all his questions and worries. He only needed to find the courage to go and find the diary again; then he could finally know everything that was going on. 

It was more than justified, he told himself. Something was not right with Lord Fiske, and as his valet Bates had the right to know what it was. More importantly, how could he be expected to help if he didn’t know what was wrong? 

Despite this perfect logic, his heart was still telling him that it was wrong to even consider prying into his master’s affairs. He was a servant and it wasn’t his place to take matters into his own hands, not even when it looked like it was for the best. As long as Lord Fiske thought there was nothing wrong, that was what he had to accept as well. Then again, wasn’t it a known fact that mentally unstable people never realised anything was amiss and always thought of themselves as personifications of logic? 

Bates shook his head. No. Lord Fiske was not insane. He was… momentarily off balance as a result of intense research. 

And he would not go insane either. Bates decided that it was his responsibility to look at the diary the first chance he got.

***

This firm decision didn’t do him much good, however. Though he tried hard, Bates was never able to find a moment when he could enter Lord Fiske’s bedroom and search for the diary safely. Whenever he entered the room to change the sheets or do other chores, Fiske always chose that moment to have something seemingly important to say. Bates could never be certain if the man would come in through the door the next minute, so he didn’t have the courage to search for the diary in case he was caught red-handed.

He can’t know what I’m up to, can he, he wondered guiltily. Maybe he was acting so nervous that Lord Fiske could sense that there was something fishy going on. Maybe it was just a coincidence; maybe he was imagining things. Whatever it was, he didn’t think he would be able to look for the diary as long as Fiske was at the castle.

Two weeks passed relatively quickly. Bates bought them tickets to the Cuddle Buddy convention, feeling awfully foolish when the lady at the phone asked if he was coming with his granddaughter. The valet was certain that there had to be an easier and less embarrassing way to get in touch with Ms Hall, but Lord Fiske had decided that he wanted to make a good impression. 

“I’ve read some of her online journal. She only writes about her collectible toys or her scientific research. It’s considerably easier to buy her a toy than study even the basics of genetics,” the man explained when they were on their way to London.

“If she writes that much about her research, she’d probably be happy to talk about it to anyone,” Bates pointed out. He couldn’t help but recall the time when Lord Fiske had been forced to attend yet another social event and had bored everyone to tears with his talk about his recent findings. 

“Yes, it’s possible, but I don’t want to take any risks. If I don’t get to meet her today, I will have to visit her in America. That’s a little bit more effort than I’d like to put into this.”

“Maybe it would be a good idea to invite both her and Mr Abercroft for dinner. I’m sure he would be most interested in hearing what Ms Hall has to say,” Bates suggested. He hadn’t brought up the topic since Fiske’s outburst two weeks ago. He was feeling increasingly uneasy about Fiske’s utter disinterest in the old man who was supposed to be his friend. It was like his master saw it fit to call him only when he needed something. 

“That depends on whether Ms Hall can tell me anything of value,” Fiske replied. “Ah, it looks like we’re here.”

Bates couldn’t disagree when he took in their surroundings. The Cuddle Buddy convention was being held in a large exhibition hall, and the normally respectable setting was covered in horrendous hybrids of different animals. Bright colours bombarded Bates’s eyes from every direction and the utter surrealism of the massive decorations made him want to turn the car around and return home at once. 

“This is not what I was expecting.”

“Yes, it is quite sickening,” Fiske observed.

“Maybe we should forget about this and go home?” Bates suggested hopefully. He received an annoyed glare from Lord Fiske as a reward, and he knew there was no point in trying to convince his master that this wasn’t one of his brightest ideas. 

“I am not the first man to take a plunge into the unknown for the greater good,” Fiske pointed out. 

“I’m not sure anything good will come out of this, milord.”

The next couple of minutes only made this opinion stronger. The hall was crowded with people, the buzz of their voices making it impossible to hear even his own thoughts. Pastel-coloured toys were on display everywhere, cheerful music kept torturing his ears, and he almost got a heart attack when he realised that some people were dressed up as Cuddle Buddies. At first Bates thought they were mascots meant to boost sales, but after a while he realised that they were just normal people having fun. 

“This is absurd, milord,” he said. Most of these people were adults! Children he could have understood, but he didn’t see how any sane and self-respecting adult could be into this madness. 

“I agree,” Lord Fiske said grimly as he stepped aside to avoid collision with a purple bear. “We had better get out of the way and wait for the auction to begin.”

They had gone through the list of rare collectibles that would be auctioned at the convention and compared it to the collection Ms Hall had described in her journal. It seemed like she was a very enthusiastic collector indeed and only lacked several of the rarest Cuddle Buddies. Only one of them was being auctioned that day, a star edition of the toy called Pandaroo.

“It is most likely we will end up against Ms Hall if she is also here to acquire that item,” Bates pointed out. 

“I’ve considered that, yes. She will no doubt be upset when we snatch the toy from under her nose, but I’m sure she will come around.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if we let her win the auction, milord?” Bates asked. 

“Then she would have no reason to feel grateful to me. Do think a little!”

“Very well, milord,” Bates said and resigned to the fact that yes, they were indeed going to waste an entire day at a toy convention, surrounded by lunatics and most likely ending up spending a vast amount of money on a horrendous toy they would give away to someone who would have been perfectly happy to purchase it herself. He had to shake his head. Why was it that when Lord Fiske got an idea, he could never give up before he got what he wanted or the situation completely blew up on his face? 

They found their way to the part of the hall where the auction was to be held and took their seats. There was already a crowd gathering there, and Bates was surprised to notice that not everyone present looked like they were complete loonies; quite many were the kind of men and women he would have expected to see in Lord Fiske’s social circles – if the man had been part of any, of course. 

He tried to scout around and see if he could catch a glimpse of Ms Hall anywhere. It took him a while, but he finally found her sitting in the first row, smiling and chatting with the people around her. She was making wild gestures with her hands and almost jumping up and down on her seat as she explained something to the woman by her side. Bates couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but he could see how the two of them broke into a mad fit of giggles like schoolgirls. 

Highly intelligent and professional, indeed, he thought. 

Lord Fiske had noticed her as well and was staring at her with a doubtful frown on his face. “She’s not quite as I expected.”

“She’s obviously rather fond of these toys. It’s no surprise she can forget herself when surrounded by something she loves.”

“Well, I think it’s rather unprofessional to let your interests control you like that,” Fiske said. 

Bates chose to remain silent, though he could have pointed out that Lord Fiske was in no position to make such a comment. 

He coughed. “I think they’re about to begin, milord.”

“Right. We’ll wait for that... panda creature, and you’ll just keep bidding,” Fiske said and thrust a small wooden sign into Bates’s hands. It was shaped like a smiling cat head and had their number on it. 

“How much are you prepared to spend on this, milord?” Bates asked.

“I haven’t decided yet, but it is essential that we acquire the item.”

In other words, Fiske wouldn’t stop until he had what he wanted. It wasn’t anything new, and Bates could only be glad for that they didn’t go to auctions very often. Considering Lord Fiske’s stubbornness and tendency to get fixated on things, he probably would end up wasting the entire family fortune on some trinket that he absolutely had to have. 

The first items to be auctioned included some special editions of popular Cuddle Buddies. Bates kept note of the final prices and tried to guess how much they would end up losing. Lord Fiske had told him that there were only twelve star edition Pandaroos in the world, which would certainly make the price go up. 

Finally it was time for their prey. Bates watched how the toy was placed on display and how the experienced collectors started glancing at each other, no doubt trying to guess who would be the lucky one to get the prize. 

“And our final item is a star edition of the popular Pandaroo. As everyone here knows, only a dozen were ever made, so this is a rare opportunity to acquire it. We’ll start from five hundred pounds and go up from there,” the auctioneer explained. 

Someone from the first row immediately lifted their sign and the bidding was off. Before Bates even realised that the fight had begun, the price had already gone up to twelve hundred. He glanced at Lord Fiske to make sure the man was still intending to join, and a nudge from him confirmed this. 

“Twelve hundred and fifty to number twenty-one!” the auctioneer announced as Bates lifted their sign. 

“Number five offers thirteen hundred!”

“Fourteen hundred to number ten!”

Bates noted that Ms Hall was number twelve and more than determined to win the bid. Apart from her and him, there were four others trying to get their hands on the valued toy. Everybody seemed to have money to burn and a strong desire to have the toy, so he didn’t think they would see the end of the race in a while. 

“Milord, do you intend to continue?” he whispered to Fiske when an elderly gentleman from the first row offered two thousand pounds. 

“Go on, Bates,” Fiske replied, never once taking his eyes off Ms Hall. 

“As you wish, milord,” Bates sighed and offered two thousand and two hundred. 

When they reached three thousand, two of their opponents gave up. By the time four thousand rolled along, another man had to admit defeat, and after a while Ms Hall joined the unhappy group. Bates was too busy competing with the one man who was left, so he had no time to pay attention to her reaction. All he could see was that her shoulders slumped like the weight of the entire world was upon her. He could only imagine the sad look on her face.

The bidding went on, and Bates kept stealing glances at Lord Fiske every time their opponent added another hundred pounds to the price. It was getting too high for him to feel comfortable about what they were doing, and he hoped Fiske might see reason and call the game off. 

“Four thousand and six hundred!” 

Their opponent hesitated for a brief moment, but then quickly made up his mind and continued. Everybody’s eyes were on them now; everybody wanted to know who would be the lucky winner to walk away with a Pandaroo under their arm. 

“Five thousand!”

“Five thousand! Once, twice… and three times! Sold to number twenty-one for five thousand pounds!” 

Bates let his arm fall, and he dropped the sign on his knees. Good God, he thought. They had just wasted five thousand pounds on a toy! 

“Marvellous! Good show, Bates!” Lord Fiske said. He almost clasped his hands together in excitement, but at the last moment he remembered that his right hand was still injured. He pulled a check book from his pocket and quickly scribbled down the sum. 

“Let’s get our prize, shall we?” he said. 

Bates noticed how people were staring at them as they walked over to pay and pick up the toy. Some looks were curious, some had a calculating gleam. Bates supposed it wasn’t every day that a surprise player came along and took the grand prize. 

“Do you think this was worth it?” he asked when Fiske showed him the toy. 

“Well, it had better be. Did you notice where Ms Hall went?” his master replied as he conveniently ignored everyone who tried to start a conversation with him about the Cuddle Buddy. 

“I think I saw her heading towards the Hyema display, milord,” Bates said. “She seemed quite disappointed.”

“Well, then she will only be twice as happy when I give this to her,” Fiske said. Bates supposed that he had a point. Ms Hall would not have acquired the toy through bidding in any case, so this was her only way of getting it.

It took them a while, but eventually they spotted her pink-clad form in the crowd. She was admiring the collection somebody had put on display and seemed particularly fascinated by a purplish blob that didn’t resemble any animal in Bates’s opinion. She didn’t notice the two of them arrive until Lord Fiske cleared his throat. 

“Ms Hall, I presume?” he asked with a suave smile. 

The woman turned around with a smile. “Yes, hello. Oh. Oh!” The joy on her face faded away when her eyes were drawn to the Pandaroo Lord Fiske was holding, and immense envy took over her features. For a while she looked like she didn’t know what to do, but then she let out a wistful sigh. 

“Congratulations on the Pandaroo. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous, but you can’t really blame another Cuddler for getting lucky, or what do you think, Mr…?” she admitted and attempted a new smile.

“I’m Lord Monty Fiske, and I must say I have been very much looking forward to meeting you, Ms Hall.”

“Oh, just call me Amy!” the woman giggled and looked at the man with new interest upon hearing his title. Then she frowned when a thought occurred to her. “I thought I knew all hardcore Cuddlers, but I’ve never heard of you before.”

“Yes, well, I am not exactly into this leisure activity. This is my first time at a convention like this,” Fiske admitted. 

“And yet you bought the Pandaroo,” Amy pointed out, a hint of bitterness in her voice as she glanced at the toy in Fiske’s arms. She no doubt thought that a treasure like that was going to waste in the hands of someone who wasn’t an enthusiastic collector. 

“Only so that I could present it to you,” Fiske said and offered the toy to Amy who took it carefully from his hand. 

“For me?” she asked. “But why?” She could barely tear her eyes from the toy and turn to look at Fiske with a puzzled frown. 

Fiske straightened to his full height and continued smiling smugly at her. “It is a mere present. I have taken much interest in your work, and I would like to talk about it later.” 

“Oh, thank you! You’re so sweet!” Amy exclaimed and hugged the Pandaroo so tightly against her chest that Bates thought its eyes might pop. After about five minutes of cooing at the toy and Fiske and Bates glancing at each other in uncomfortable silence, she finally calmed down enough to say something coherent. 

“But you know, I’m always read to talk about my research. You could have just asked,” she said brightly. 

“I… what?” Fiske stammered. 

“I know my colleagues are all no fun, just work type of people, but I take so much delight in sharing my work with everyone who wants to listen.”

Bates had to bite his tongue to keep himself from muttering “I told you so” to his master. Judging by the nauseated expression on Fiske’s face, the shock at having been entirely wrong and having wasted so much money on a stupid toy was enough of a punishment. 

“Maybe we should talk more in a more fitting setting?” Bates suggested when it became obvious that Lord Fiske couldn’t bring himself to say anything at the moment. 

“Good idea!” Amy beamed. She caught them both by the arm and started dragging them outside. 

“Coffee's on me, boys!” 

It was going to be a long afternoon.


	9. Chapter 9

Bates watched how Amy shoved another cream puff on Lord Fiske’s plate. After having two already, the man was starting to look a little green on the face, but he didn’t object to her attentions. Bates guessed his master didn’t want to risk the danger of insulting their guest. In his opinion, it was a useless fear. Though Amy probably did hurt her feelings very often because of how emotional she was, it also had the advantage that it was easy to win her over again. 

“Eat up! This is the only café in London that has cream puffs like this. I always have at least five when I come here.”

“Do you visit England often?” Fiske asked as he poked the pastry with his fork. 

“No, but I could if you wanted,” Amy replied with a sultry grin and rested her head on her hands, gazing dreamily at Fiske as he tried to down the puff. 

“Err…” Fiske put down the fork and gave up on the pastry. “What I wanted to talk about was your research in genetics and your splicing experiments.”

“Oh, so you’ve read about my attempt to create a living Cuddle Buddy?”

Bates almost choked on his tea at that and received a glare from both Lord Fiske and Amy. 

“My apologies,” he said quickly and turned his eyes down. He had known from the very first moment that this Amy Hall had to be unstable in some way, but surely even she wasn’t insane enough to tamper with nature like that? 

“Yes, and I found it quite fascinating, and…” Fiske hesitated a moment here, and Bates got the feeling that he was pondering his next words carefully. Whether that was because he was wary of Amy or him, he didn’t know. 

“And?” Amy pressed.

“And there are some points that I would like to discuss further.”

“Ask away! I’ll reveal you everything you want!”

“Right… You mentioned in your research paper that you would have liked to experiment with panda DNA but couldn’t get access to it.”

“Right you are. At least, there was no legal way to get my hands on that DNA and create myself a real Pandaroo. I considered some other means, but the university was already breathing down my neck, so I picked a dog and a crab instead,” Amy said.

Bates tried to get Lord Fiske’s attention by clearing his throat and staring at him meaningfully. This woman was obviously insane and the best thing they could do was leave and forget all about her. She had just admitted to having considered illegal activities! 

Unfortunately, Fiske was too busy listening to Amy to notice him, or maybe he was ignoring his valet on purpose. 

“A friend of mine recently saved an orangutan from poachers who were supposedly going to sell the poor creature for scientific experimentation. Do you happen to know anything about cases like that?” Fiske asked.

Amy frowned in confusion. “But Monty! I don’t condone poaching! I would never ever do anything to hurt any of the cute animals in the world!”

“I don’t find that hard to believe,” Fiske muttered, then smiled brightly at her again. “Yes, but surely you must have at least heard of such occasions?”

“Yes, but I don’t see how I could help you with that. Is this really why you wanted to talk to me? Or were you just looking for an excuse to ask me out?” Amy asked and wiggled her brows. 

Lord Fiske grimaced in immense disgust and turned to glance at his valet. “Bates, why don’t you go and pay the bill?” he suggested.

“But I thought I was going to--” Amy started, but Fiske silenced her with a gesture of his hand.

“Absolutely not. A gentleman never makes a lady pay.”

“Ooh, nobody ever calls me a lady! Say it again!”

Bates found that he couldn’t tear his eyes from the horrendous sight of this woman fawning over his master with no dignity whatsoever. He wondered if the best course of action wasn’t grabbing Lord Fiske by the arm and dragging him away before they had to endure another public display of such chagrin. 

Fiske turned to glare at him. “Bates, what are you still doing here?” 

“Oh! Of course, milord,” the valet explained and left the table in a hurry. He went over to the counter on the other side of the café and expressed his desire to pay their bill. As he was doing that, he turned to look back at their table. 

Lord Fiske and Amy were talking feverishly about something, hunched over and occasionally glancing around to make sure nobody was listening. With a small amount of hurt pride, Bates realised that he had been sent away on purpose so that the two of them could have privacy and talk without his presence. 

This is not good, he thought but wasn’t able to locate the reason of his discomfort. If they had been home at the castle, he would have left Fiske and Amy alone in any case, so there was really no reason for him to feel left out now. 

Milord could have told me he wanted to be alone with her, he thought grumpily. Yes, that was it. If Lord Fiske had simply asked him to leave because he had private matters with Amy, he wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But now that he had been pushed aside it looked suspiciously like the two of them were discussing something whose very existence had to remain a secret. 

“My university is not going to let me use their equipment again, at least for that kind of experiments,” Amy was saying when Bates returned to the table. She immediately shut up when she noticed him and offered him one of her bright smiles. 

“Ah, you’re back,” Fiske replied, sounding all too disappointed. 

“Are there other errands you require me to run, milord?” Bates asked, offering the man another excuse to send him away. He almost hoped Fiske would realise that he had seen through everything and knew what was going on, but the man’s face revealed nothing.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said. He stood up and regarded Amy with a smile as he said goodbye. “It was a very enlightening conversation.”

“Aww, don’t mention it! The pleasure was all mine,” Amy giggled. “See you later!” she added when Fiske and Bates left the café.

Once outside, the valet let out a sigh of relief. It felt like the woman’s personality had kept them trapped in a soft cage and that they had been finally let out after years of torture. He couldn’t imagine how Lord Fiske had been able to act so calm and pleasant. 

“Did she give you any information of value, milord?” he asked as they were walking to the car. 

“Some basics. We will need to discuss these matters when there is more time. I invited her over to dinner this weekend for that purpose.”

“Really, milord?” Bates asked. He couldn’t remember the last time Fiske had had anyone come over. 

“Yes. Don’t sound so surprised, Bates.”

“It’s just that we haven’t had any guests in a while, milord,” Bates said. Having that woman come to their home was something that made him feel like someone was prodding at his insides. There was something completely wrong about her behind that cheerful and bubbly personality. 

“Have there been people worth inviting?” Fiske asked. 

“What about Mr Abercroft? Why don’t we invite him also? I’m sure he would be interested in discussing the matter of poaching as well,” Bates suggested. He reasoned that since Lord Fiske seemed so interested in the subject, he would be only delighted to have more people take part in the conversation.

Fiske glanced at him from the corner of his eye. The brief silence before he answered already warned Bates that his master wasn’t too enthusiastic about his idea. 

“I’m not sure if it is worth bothering Nigel. Amy doesn’t have any information that might be useful to him,” Fiske said. 

“Then why did you invite her?” Bates questioned. If Amy had nothing to tell them, why should they suffer her company for any longer than they absolutely had to? She was certainly not Lord Fiske’s type, so Bates doubted the man wanted her for company. 

“I think it is my business whom I decide to invite and whom not, Bates,” Lord Fiske replied. 

“Of course, milord, but --”

“And I am therefore not interested in your advice on this matter. I have made up my mind and that’s final.”

Bates sighed but didn’t argue. He wondered if he was being unreasonable. For the past months he had been worried about Lord Fiske and his obsession with the monkey statues. Now the man was finally showing signs of getting interested in something else, and he still wasn’t happy about it. What exactly did he expect his master to do?

It would have been such a relief if Fiske had returned to his work at the museum and his old colleagues. None of them had ringed to wonder what he was up to and when he was coming back. Bates couldn’t help but ponder if having closer relations with his peers would have helped at bringing Fiske’s life back on track.

He would have liked to say that becoming acquainted with Amy was better than sulking to himself, but he couldn’t be quite sure. On the surface, she seemed harmless enough, and there was something in her friendly personality that convinced Bates of that she would never willingly bring any harm to his master. Yet at the same time he could see a streak of madness in her eyes. If Lord Fiske was gunpowder, she was the fire that would make everything explode and end up in smoking ruins.

“What do you want to serve Ms Hall?” he asked. 

“I didn’t ask her what she likes. Just remember to make the dessert really sweet and she should be happy.”

“Very well, milord,” Bates said. He tried to think back to the time when they had last had guests at the castle. It had to have been some time after the funeral of Lord Fiske’s father, back when he still hadn’t distanced himself from his family. It hadn’t been a happy gathering, considering the circumstances, but it was a pity none of them had been seen ever since and that Fiske wasn’t more sociable. Amy truly had to have some special information if he was inviting her over.

“Shall I also prepare a guestroom, milord?” he asked carefully, hoping that Fiske wouldn’t think he was implying anything. 

The man shot a curious glance at him. “And why would you do that?”

“Well, it is a long way from the castle to London and Ms Hall’s hotel. I think it would be only polite to invite her to stay overnight instead of making her go to the inn in town,” Bates replied. 

“I didn’t think of that. Yes, I suppose it is a good idea. We can talk longer,” Fiske mused. He didn’t look like he was even aware of the thoughts that had crossed Bates’s mind, so the valet supposed there was nothing for him to be worried about.

***

Bates found that he could almost enjoy himself as he was cleaning one of the unused guestrooms for Amy’s arrival. The rooms had remained unattended for years and while he did try to keep them clean, there simply wasn’t time for him to take proper care of them. The old furniture was covered in layers of dirt and the bed was so dusty that it was impossible to go near it without sneezing.

Because the rooms were of no interest to Lord Fiske, they had been mostly allowed to remain in their original state. Fiske’s father had also been a lover of animals, especially monkeys and apes, but he had kept this hobby outside the guestrooms. It had been Fiske’s mother who had taken care of them, and she had preferred landscape paintings. Seeing the room all nice and spotless after years of neglect made Bates recall times when they had had guests almost every weekend. 

The late Lady Fiske had been very sociable and had had countless friends and a large family. She had enjoyed nothing more than having someone over so that they could talk, take a walk around the moor or sit by the fire and drink tea. Whenever it had been just her husband and son, she had seemed to withdraw into herself like a flower that didn’t get enough sunlight. 

Bates suspected it was the desolate location of the castle that had bothered her so. She had grown up in Bristol and loved music, theatre and arts, but there had been very little of that at the Fiske Castle. She had never complained because she had loved her husband, but everybody had been able to see how unhappy she was sometimes.

“This should do,” he said to himself as he inspected the room for the last time. He still had to go and bring some towels to the drawer, but after that the room was as ready as it could be. Lord Fiske hadn’t given him any instructions regarding which room to choose for Amy, so Bates had picked the one that was the farthest away from his master’s room – just to make sure the woman didn’t get any ideas.

He still thought they should have invited Mr Abercroft as well. It would have made him feel a lot more at ease because then Lord Fiske wouldn’t have been able to spend so much time alone with Amy. The two of them had to be up to something.

The evening might be a good time to take a look at Lord Fiske’s diary, but his determination was weakening. It almost seemed like his master had forgotten the monkey statues, so Bates wasn’t sure whether it was justified to break his trust anymore. Maybe the whole business with the statues had been just another passing interest after all. 

This mixture of guilt and worry was still gnawing at him a few hours later when he was making sure everything was alright in the kitchen. It was moments like this when he hoped that there were more servants at the castle. He would have to drive to pick up Amy in a moment, which meant that there would be nobody to keep an eye on the cooking. Lord Fiske didn’t count because he didn’t understand anything about the topic and would most likely end up poisoning everyone if Bates let him near the dishes. 

He switched the heat lower so that the food would remain warm but not be ruined. He then went to get his coat so that he could drive to the town. Amy would arrive by bus because she had wanted to remain in London until the Cuddle Buddy convention was over. 

“You still haven’t left?” Lord Fiske questioned with some irritation as he popped his head into the kitchen. 

“There’s still twenty minutes before her bus arrives, milord,” Bates pointed out. 

“You never know. They might be early,” Fiske said. 

“I doubt it, milord. It has been raining all day. If anything, they’re late,” Bates said. He took one last look at the cooking and hoped that no catastrophes would occur while he was away. He didn’t think ordering fish and chips from town would be a pleasant option in case something went wrong. 

“Curse this weather,” Lord Fiske muttered under his breath. He tried clasping his hands behind his back but withdrew them with a hiss of pain when he hurt his injured hand. Bates knew better than to remind the man to be careful, though he did feel like doing it. Lecturing at Fiske would only get him in trouble, especially now that the man consumed by frustration and impatience. 

The only way to get Lord Fiske to feel better was to give him what he wanted, so Bates decided he might just as well take the car and drive to town to wait for Amy. 

Some fifteen minutes later he parked the car near the post office in Pegsfield. The town was too small to have a real bus station, but the only bus that came by a few times a week didn’t really even need one. 

He would have liked to see some familiar faces and maybe exchange some words with the half-friends he had in town, but the rain had done a good job at driving everyone to stay inside their houses. He didn’t see a single soul outside, and that combined with the steady drumming of raindrops against the car window made him feel isolated from the rest of the world. 

Bates wasn’t sure how many minutes passed before the form of an old bus emerged from the thick rain, but its appearance suddenly brought him back to reality. He grabbed an umbrella from the passenger’s seat and stepped outside to make sure Amy would spot him.

Only three people stepped out of the bus, and two of them were tall men, so it was easy for him to find her. Bates walked over to her and offered to hold the umbrella over her head. 

“Why, thank you! That’s so nice of you! You know, I thought about bringing my own umbrella, but I forgot. I’ll never get used to your English weather,” Amy babbled. Much to Bates’s delight, she was wearing a brown jacket that didn’t stand out in any way. The only odd thing about her was a small Cuddle Buddy that was attached to her chest, but that much he could take. 

“It has been raining almost the entire week, madam,” Bates said politely as he opened the car door for her.

Amy giggled when she took her seat. “Oh, stop that poshy-poshness! You’re making me embarrassed.” 

Bates ignored the comment. He didn’t much care for people who wanted to break down the polite barrier between servants and guests. In his opinion, it didn’t show tolerance but an utter lack of manners. 

“Lord Fiske is waiting for you. We had better go,” he said. 

“It was so nice of him to invite me here. I’ve never been to a real castle before."

“I’m sure you’ll find it a pleasant experience, madam.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will,” the woman said, making Bates shift uncomfortably. He couldn’t help thinking that there was something almost predatory in her seemingly friendly behaviour. It made him feel protective of Lord Fiske, very much like in the past when undesirable wife candidates had seen it suitable to latch onto him and try to get a bite of the Fiske fortune. 

“The discussion he asked you here for is bound to be fascinating,” he said in order to remind the woman of the real purpose of her visit. 

“That’s right. Most people aren’t interested in my work, you know. They think I’m insane and that I shouldn’t play with nature like that, but what do they know? They’ve never seen real, living Cuddle Buddies,” Amy said. 

“I thought Lord Fiske was interested in your information about smuggling of rare animals,” Bates pointed out. 

“Oh, he was,” Amy said, and smiled at him in a way that made Bates wonder if there wasn’t some kind of secret that was being kept from him. He tried to tell himself that it was not his right to know the exact nature of the business Lord Fiske had with Amy, but he had to admit that he almost preferred the monkey statues to this. When they were dealing with them, he at least had almost all of the facts. 

This thought made him remember the diary, and he realised that he had the chance to go and search for it while Fiske talked with Amy. His responsible side was still nagging at him that he was betraying his master’s trust and that there was no need to know about China anymore. Lord Fiske hadn’t talked much about the monkey statues lately, so whatever was wrong with him could not be related to them. 

Despite this, he made the firm decision to look for the diary that night.

***

Lord Fiske was waiting for them in the hall when they arrived. He smiled pleasantly at Amy when she skipped over to him and blabbered something incomprehensible about how mysterious and dark and amazing the castle was, and it took her only a minute to beg him into giving her a tour of it later. Bates watched this display from afar, holding Amy’s luggage, and wondered if Lord Fiske hadn’t dug his own grave by inviting her.

“We will be in the lounge, Bates,” Fiske told him as he and Amy left the room. She had wrapped her other arm around his, but Fiske did a good job at hiding the uncomfortable grimace on his face. 

“Very well, milord. Do call for me if you need… anything,” Bates said. He caught himself just in time before he ended the sentence with “help”. 

“Truly noted,” Fiske muttered.

Bates took Amy’s suitcase to her room and placed it on the bed. He took one last look around the room to make sure everything was in order before exiting and heading towards the kitchen. He didn’t smell anything burning, so he supposed the cooking was fine. 

Now that he had brought Amy to the castle, there wasn’t much for him to do until it was time to serve something. He thought about going to search for the diary, but he decided that it wasn’t the best moment yet. He didn’t want to leave the cooking alone anymore, and it was possible that Lord Fiske might ask him to bring them some tea. Dinnertime was also out of the question because he would be needed then, so his best shot was late evening when Fiske and his guest would no doubt be sitting in the lounge. 

He didn’t hear even a peep from the lounge for several hours. He walked past the closed double doors one time when his curiosity got the better of him, but nothing short of taking a peek through the key hole would have told him what was going on inside. He didn’t want to sink quite that low, so he was forced to return to the kitchen. 

I wish they’d want tea, he thought. Then he’d at least have an excuse to go in and see what was happening. It was a good thing that it was almost time for dinner because that would force Lord Fiske and Amy to leave their secrets for a while. 

He felt somewhat guilty for being so worried about his master’s business. Bates knew for a fact that his father would have never even considered sticking his nose into the matter. Then again, despite the late Gregory Fiske’s occasional bursts of oddity, he had never given them any reason to be worried. He had always remembered that family and work came first, in that order, and he had been an example of a good man to everyone around him. 

Despite the obvious differences between the two Fiskes, Bates was certain that his father would not have approved of his doubtful thoughts. Serving the lord of the house had always been the first priority of his life. 

He noticed that it was almost dinnertime, so he quickly made his way to the dining room to make sure everything was in order there. The fact that he had set the large table for only two might have made the room seem absurd, but Bates was more than accustomed to that it was no longer serving its original purpose. 

He was just finishing with the final preparations when the door opened and Lord Fiske entered with Amy. Bates tried to read their faces to see if he could get any hints about what their long discussion had been about, but it was a futile attempt. Both of them were only smiling and exchanging empty pleasantries with such ease that it almost seemed planned.

“You’ll have to show me the moors tomorrow,” Amy was saying as Fiske offered her a chair.

“If it stops raining, I will,” he promised. He seemed to be in good spirits, smiling even when he told Bates that there was no need for him to remain in the room when they ate. Bates tried to object because this would mean at least one more hour of Lord Fiske alone with that woman, but his master wouldn’t hear it. 

“Do as I say,” he ordered sharply, the smile gone now. 

“Don’t be so hard on him, Monty. He means well,” Amy piped up. Her comment bothered Bates a great deal more than Fiske’s words. She spoke as if he was ignorant of something that was crystal clear to the two of them and that all they could do was to have some understanding. 

“Very well, milord. You know what to do if you need me,” he said stiffly and retreated to the kitchen. 

Once there, he sat down and glared at the table. He felt like he was being pushed aside in his own home, like he had become a nuisance but nobody had the heart to tell him to beat it, so they kept coming up with lame excuses. Lord Fiske had never been like that with him. Even when he had had guests far more important than Amy, such as Mr Graves, he had never been so strict about where and when Bates could be present. 

Now it seemed like his master and his guest were sharing such secrets that not a single word was allowed to reach anyone else’s ears. That wasn’t what Bates had a problem with, but he hated it how little Lord Fiske apparently trusted him. The man should have known that whatever he and Amy were talking about, Bates would not blabber about it to anyone.

I didn’t betray his trust when it was the monkey statutes, did I, he thought. This matter with Amy couldn’t be more important than that!

He kept hoping that he would be called to the dining room to do something, but Lord Fiske and Amy seemed to have everything they needed. His curiosity grew into worry and then anger. He tried to reason with himself and remember that this was perfectly normal behaviour; it just felt out of place because Fiske had such few guests that Bates was used to their companionship. Now that there was a guest at the castle, he felt more like a servant than in years. 

Despite this, he felt it was reasonable to drop by the dining room and see if there was anything the two needed. It was even his responsibility, so there was no need to feel guilty. 

When he entered the room, it turned out that Lord Fiske and Amy had seen it fit to finish and leave without calling Bates to clear the table. He supposed they had been too eager to get back to discussing their interests, but he felt horribly ignored when he looked at the abandoned table.

That’s it, he thought. He was going to serve those two tea right now whether they wanted it or not. 

Without bothering to do anything about the table, he returned to the kitchen and prepared a tea service in record time. He included some biscuits that he had brought back from Margaret’s the last time he had visited her and chose the best brand of tea that they had. 

By the time he reached the doors to the lounge, his irritation had faded a way a little and he started wondering if he perhaps wasn’t being childish and crossing the line a little. He paused there for a moment and reconsidered his next action, but in the end he decided to take the risk and knock on the door before entering. 

Lord Fiske and Amy were sitting by the fireplace. Fiske’s injured hand was free of bandages and Amy was holding it close to her face, as if to see what exactly was wrong with it. Fiske was looking at her with some amount of worry on his face.

“And is that going to be a problem?” he said, referring to something they must have had been discussing only a moment ago. 

“Not at all. It just means we have to wait until – oh, hello!” Amy said and turned to smile at Bates when he entered. 

The valet couldn’t help but feel tad annoyed by how casually Fiske had let Amy take a look at his hand. He had offered to change the bandages when it was time for that, but Fiske had always declined and preferred doing it himself. Now he was letting a complete stranger that deep into his comfort zone. 

“Bates, what are you doing here?” Fiske questioned as he pulled his hand back. An irritated frown was masking his face and the contrast between the light from the fireplace and the shadows from the rest of the room only intensified the lines of annoyance on his face. 

“I thought you might desire some tea, milord,” Bates replied. He put down the tea service.

“I thought I made it clear that I would call for you if we needed anything,” Fiske pointed out in a biting tone.

“Don’t be such a spoilsport! These cookies look really great!” Amy said and reached out for one.

Bates cleared his throat. “I apologize if I’m interfering, milord,” he said. He took a glance around the table between Fiske and his guest. There were some papers spread on it, but he couldn’t really read the writing or see the pictures without looking like he was prying.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter now, but I will have to talk to you later,” Fiske said. He hadn’t made a move to get any tea, but Amy was more than happy to enjoy the service.

“As you wish, milord,” Bates said, mentally cringing at the thought. He waited a few more moments to see if there was any reason for him to stay, but the glare he received from Lord Fiske quickly drove him out of the room. 

He guessed it would be a while before Lord Fiske and Amy were done, so he decided this was his moment to see if he could find the diary. He quickly cleared the table in the dining room, confirmed Fiske and his guest were still at the lounge, and made his way to his master’s bedroom. 

The door clicked shut behind him. Though he had been in the room numerous times and knew every corner of it like the back of his hands, he suddenly felt like he had no idea where to go or what to do. To top that he seemed to have forgotten how to use his limbs because the simple task of opening a drawer was suddenly difficult.

I would be a terrible thief, he thought as he finally pulled the drawer open. The scratching sound made him cringe, and he was certain that both Lord Fiske and Amy had heard it and would soon come running to the room. He could almost hear their steps already. 

When nothing happened for a few moments, he let out a sigh and dared to take a look inside the drawer. It was where he had put the diary when he had found it, but now there was nothing but a comb and various other small items that had been shoved there to keep them out of sight. Feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment, Bates pushed the drawer shut. 

He absent-mindedly brushed his sweaty hands on his trousers and wondered where he should look next. He probably didn’t have much time and he didn’t want to be missing for too long in case his absence was noticed. He quickly opened the doors to the closets, checked under the pillows and looked under the bed. He found nothing, but he didn’t think that was very surprising. If Lord Fiske wanted to keep the diary a secret, there were numerous places he could have hidden it in. Who knew if it even was in his bedroom anymore?

Bates realised that his chances of ever seeing the diary again didn’t look good and that he would never find it unless he was extremely lucky or searched the entire castle from the basement to the highest tower. He had neither the time nor the opportunity to do that, which meant that his only chance of discovering the truth about China was asking Fiske about it.

If the past few months had taught him anything, he knew how well that would go.

***

The next day didn’t bring any change into the situation. It stopped raining some time during the night, and Lord Fiske and Amy took the opportunity to go and explore the moors together. Bates watched them from one of the windows and could see them hunched together even as they walked, talking feverishly about something.

He shook his head to himself. Nothing good would come out of this, he knew. He felt like he needed some kind of anchor to tie him down to reality, so he decided to ring Margaret and ask her how she was doing.

“Oh, hello, William,” she said when she realised who was ringing her. At least somebody was happy to talk to him. 

“Is everything alright there?” Bates asked. It was the first thing he always said to his sister whenever he called her. Despite her insisting that she was doing just fine on her own, he couldn’t help but worry about her taking care of the inn all on her own. 

“Yes. I hired Nina from next door to help me in kitchen. You remember her, right? She didn’t get into school this year either, so she needed something to do,” Margaret replied. 

Bates thought he could vaguely remember a girl with red hair and more freckles than normal skin, but he wasn’t sure. He felt like he barely knew his own family anymore, so their neighbours were like aliens. 

“Are you sure you can manage everything by yourself? You know that I can stop by any time you need me.”

“What’s that? You sound a little worried. Has something happened at the castle?” Margaret asked. 

“I’m a little unnerved by Lord Fiske’s latest adventures.”

“Is the hand troubling him? I knew he wouldn’t have the patience to let it rest, the rascal.”

Bates wished it really was that simple. He didn’t think it was a good idea to worry Margaret by telling her about the monkey statues or Fiske’s odd mood swings because she wouldn’t have understood. She would have rushed to the castle to make things worse by smothering Fiske like he was a sick child.

“No, it’s not the hand. He hasn’t been himself lately.”

“Well, it’s probably because he has to sit still all day. I remember what Thomas was like when his hand got crushed under that wheel. Say, is Monty over there? I haven’t talked to him in ages,” Margaret said. 

“Lord Fiske is out with a lady,” Bates replied.

“Oh? Well, it’s about time! Who is she?” Margaret’s voice turned into an excited squeal at the idea of getting some juicy gossip. She sounded so happy that Bates almost felt guilty for having to shoot down her ideas.

“The relationship between Lord Fiske and Ms Hall is nothing like you’re imagining,” he said. “They’re merely associates, and she is part of the reason I am worried.”

“Why is that? Is there something fishy about her?” 

“Not exactly, but Lord Fiske seems horribly fascinated by her work in genetics. The topic has never interested him before, but now he spends all his time discussing it with Ms Hall. I barely got to say good morning to him before he was already off with her,” Bates said. He supposed he wouldn’t have minded Fiske’s interest if he had known just what the two were talking about. Now he was left with a horrible feeling of insecurity because he didn’t know if he should have prepared himself for something. 

Margaret chuckled. “Oh, you’re so slow sometimes. Isn’t it obvious that he’s only pretending to be interested so that he can impress her? If they spend all their time together, I don’t think there’s any room for guesswork.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Ms Hall is not Lord Fiske’s type,” Bates said. He hadn’t even thought about it from that perspective, mainly because he couldn’t imagine anyone being interested in someone like her.

“Really? What’s wrong with her?” 

Bates wasn’t really sure where to begin. “She is loud, overly happy, has no taste or sense of dignity, and she collects stuffed toys.”

“So, she’s a little unconventional. So is Monty,” Margaret reasoned. 

“You haven’t met her. Trust me on this.”

Margaret tried to continue with the subject, but Bates dodged all her arguments until they could talk about something else. Spreading needless gossip about things that were not true was not what he wanted to do. 

His worries hadn’t faded away much when he finally put down the receiver. If anything, they had been replaced by new ones. What Margaret had proposed did make sense, even if he didn’t like the idea one bit. Lord Fiske himself had admitted that Amy’s information was not very useful to him, so why else would he be all over her like that? 

What would he do if there was a Lady Fiske at the castle? He had often hoped that his master would get married and start a family, but he couldn’t imagine him ever doing it with someone like Amy Hall. And if she did become a frequent visitor and an eventual resident to the castle, what would that mean for him? He was used to living alone with Lord Fiske, and if these two days had already made him feel lonely and ignored, he wouldn’t be able to stand an eternity.

But there was no need to get worried about it. Not at all. Lord Fiske would never be interested in someone like her. He needed someone who could understand his research and interests and assist him with them. Someone who was independent and could keep him in line when he got carried away. Amy was more like a puppy that needed constant attention.

On the other hand, Lord Fiske wouldn’t be the first man in the world to become charmed by a woman who was wrong for him in every possible way. He didn’t have much experience in the matters, so it was possible that he could be misled. It was Bates’s responsibility as a valet to play Jeeves and make sure his master didn’t do anything that he would grow to regret later.

***

Lord Fiske and his guest weren’t any more interested in his company than on the day before. Whenever Bates managed to steal a glimpse of them, he tried to see if there were any alarming signals to be spotted. He saw no dreamy glances, blushing or needless touching, but it couldn’t be denied that the two got along remarkably well.

My word, maybe Margaret was right, he thought with dread as he recalled how he had caught Amy holding Lord Fiske’s hand the previous evening. He no longer even remembered his earlier worry about China. This problem at hand was much more real. 

Unlike the previous evening, this time he was actually called to serve tea to the duo. Maybe it was a safety measure to make sure he wouldn’t catch them in the middle of anything again, but it did make him feel a little more in control. 

Amy was beaming happily at him when he poured her tea, but Lord Fiske kept avoiding his eyes. The man didn’t speak a single word apart from a dismissive thank you when Bates was done. The valet knew this meant that his master couldn’t make up his mind about something, so he patiently waited if something would happen.

“You know, maybe you should just tell him,” Amy said as she played with her spoon in her teacup. “I mean, he’s going to find out anyway.”

Bates turned to look at her. That certainly didn’t sound good. He glanced at Lord Fiske who wasn’t looking any more comfortable than a moment before. 

“I suppose you’re right,” Fiske admitted. He took a breath and looked at Bates with a serious face. “Amy and I have an announcement to make.”

Please not this, not so soon, Bates thought in mild panic and tightened his hold on the teapot to make sure he wouldn’t drop it in case he was in for some shocking news. 

Fiske nodded at the woman by his side. “Amy is going to mutate my hands and feet into those of a monkey.”

Great-great-great-grandmother Fiske’s antique teapot crashed against the floor and broke into hundreds of tiny pieces. Hot tea splashed all over Bates’s clothes, but at the moment he was too shocked to care about the burns.

He had trouble forming a single coherent thought, so speaking was out of the question. All he could do was stare at the beaming duo and wonder if this wasn’t some kind of sick prank that they were pulling on him. Lord Fiske was smiling happily, so maybe it was. 

“Milord?” he finally managed to stutter. 

“Isn’t it amazing? I did tell you that something had to be done about my failing physique, and this is precisely the answer I was looking for! Once I have monkey hands and feet, I will never again have to worry about something as trivial as a slippery stone ledge!” Fiske announced in triumph and turned his feverishly excited face to smile at Amy who lapped up the attention like it was honey. 

“Oh, I’m just happy to help! This is going to be so much fun!” she squealed. 

“As soon as we get all the details decided, we’ll --”

Dear God, they were being serious!

“I think this is entirely insane!”

Both Fiske and Amy stopped their self-satisfied beaming and turned to stare at him like he was the mentally unstable one. 

“Now, that’s not very nice to say,” Amy said. 

“Bates, I’m surprised at you. Where are your manners?” Fiske questioned. 

“I’m sorry, milord, but I cannot understand how you could even consider something like this. Don’t you realise how… how stupid of a plan this is?” Bates asked. This couldn’t be real. It simply couldn’t be.

Fiske’s face darkened with an angry frown and all mirth disappeared. He stood up and grabbed Bates by the elbow, surprising the valet by the rash action.

“Amy, please excuse us for a moment,” he said as he dragged Bates out to the hallway. 

“Alright, what is wrong with you?” he asked once they were far enough so that Amy couldn’t hear them. He rested his healthy hand against his hip in a judgemental pose and glared down at his valet with anger and disappointment written all over his face.

“No, milord, what is wrong with you? You can’t seriously be planning to let that, that… woman do that to you, can you?” 

“And why not? It’s by far the best solution to my problem,” Fiske replied. 

The only problem was in Lord Fiske’s head, and it was that he couldn’t let go when he got an idea, no matter how idiotic and prone to fail it was. Bates didn’t quite have the nerve to say that, so he settled with a milder version. 

“There is no problem. Having yourself mutated is going to cost you much more than you would ever gain. How would you explain it to the rest of the world? Who knows what could go wrong with such a procedure? You don’t need it,” he tried to reason. 

“Amy is a professional. This is not going to be her first time doing something like this.”

“But, milord… This is not done. No sane person would even consider something like this,” Bates said. 

“So, you think I’m insane, then?” Fiske barked, finally raising his voice. 

“No, but --” 

“If this is how little trust you have in me, I don’t know how we’ve been able to work together all these years! Don’t you have any idea how important this is to me and everything I want to achieve?”

“Milord, I --” 

“And if you think I’m going to take this kind of slander from someone I’ve considered an ally all my life, you’re very much mistaken!” Fiske continued his rant. His face was twisted with inhuman rage and there was such a mad, passionate gleam in his eyes that Bates felt forced to take a step away from his raving master. 

“Calm down, milord!” he yelled, hoping to snap the man back to reality. “Can’t we have a rational conversation about this?”

“There is absolutely nothing to be discussed. You may pack your bags and leave in the morning.”

“What?” Bates couldn’t believe what he had just heard. “You’re laying me off, milord?”

Lord Fiske snorted and rolled his eyes. “What else can I? You have obviously no intention to support me. I have no time to drag along dead weight, so I must rid myself of every nuisance,” he said.

“But.. I…” Bates really didn’t know what to say. Never even in his worst nightmares had he thought it possible that he would stop serving the Fiske family before either he or his master died. Their families had been together for generations; Lord Fiske couldn’t just break that chain because of one argument! 

Fiske walked to the door and placed his hand on it. Before pushing it down, he glanced once more at his dumbfounded valet over his shoulder. 

“Do make sure I don’t have to see you in the morning.”

This was how little a lifetime of loyal servitude meant to Fiske? If Bates hadn’t already been in such a shock, he would have found that the most hurtful thought in his life. He wanted to say something, but nothing came to his mind and his tongue felt paralyzed. Before he even knew what was happening, the door had banged shut and he was all alone.


	10. Chapter 10

When Bates woke up the next morning, he knew from the start that something was very wrong. It took him a few moments to remember why there was such a heavy, uncomfortable feeling at the bottom of his stomach, but once he did, he jumped right out of bed. He got dressed in record time and ran out of his bedroom, still buttoning his vest on the way.

The day hadn’t dawned yet and he was the only one awake, so he didn’t worry about the lack of dignity he was showing at the moment. He stopped only once he reached the lounge where the remains of the previous night’s fire were still lukewarm. 

There were papers spread all over the table, and Bates approached them with care. He could remember exactly what had happened yesterday, but he felt reluctant to actually see the proof of it. He still had to because no matter how clear his memories were, his mind refused to accept such lunacy. 

He picked up one of the papers. Written on it was something about genetics and there was an image of some kind of DNA structure, but he didn’t understand anything of it. It was still enough to show him that he hadn’t imagined any of what had happened. He sighed and let the paper fall back on the table.

How could this be real? That woman had to have somehow manipulated Lord Fiske into this idiotic mess. There was no other explanation because Bates knew that his master would have laughed at the mere idea of mutation only a few months ago. To have himself mutilated like that…

There had to be some way to stop this madness from happening. He would have to talk to Lord Fiske once that woman was gone. Maybe then he would listen to what he had to say and look at the matter with new eyes. It just couldn’t be that his master would go along with something like this. It could still be some kind of joke. 

And yet he couldn’t convince himself to believe that; the rage in Lord Fiske’s eyes the previous night had been far too real and frightening. The man had been furious enough to drive away perhaps the only person in the world who cared about him, all because of their disagreement on the issue. 

As much as Bates disliked Amy, he couldn’t blame her for that. Whatever had triggered that reaction in Fiske had been brewing along for longer than he had known her. The odd mood swings and angry snaps over the slightest disagreements were enough proof of that. 

Whatever the reason was, the most urgent thing to do was to talk to Lord Fiske and convince him to allow him to stay. Bates had avoided his master after his outburst because he knew there was no chance of talking to him before he had calmed down. Hopefully the night had soothed the man’s anger somewhat.

It was only now that Bates realised that he was no longer in the lounge. He had been so deep in thought that he hadn’t even noticed he had been walking, and it was with some amount of surprise that he found himself in Lord Fiske’s study. He rarely went there without a reason when the man himself wasn’t present because he always felt like he was defiling some old sanctuary when he did so. 

The room hadn’t changed much. Its familiar air soothed Bates’s nerves somewhat, and he recalled the many times he had seen his master buried in his studies behind his desk. Those days felt like they had taken place a lifetime ago. He was almost startled to realise that it had been nearly a year since they had gone to search for the first monkey statue.

Everything was a mess, and there were more books sprawled on the desk and floor than were standing on the shelf. Bates looked at them and wondered how Lord Fiske could have ever handled his precious books like that. It almost looked like somebody had been throwing them around the room in a fit of rage. 

Carefully, he picked up the closest volumes and started rearranging them back on the shelf. As he did so, he couldn’t help but notice the titles of some of the books. 

“The Mystical Sects of the Far-East. When did he get interested in something like that?” he wondered out loud. More titles caught his attention and he realised that all of the books he was holding had something to do with the occult, ancient myths, and magic. He quickly put them away and wiped his hands on his trousers, feeling violated. If magic was all Lord Fiske read about these days, it was no surprise that he was acting odd.

He decided he didn’t want to have anything more to do with the books and that snooping around in his master’s study was hardly going to help him with his current situation. Just as he was about to leave, his eyes were drawn to one more book that was peeking under a larger volume on the desk. He recognised it instantly. It was the missing diary. 

Bates froze for a moment and only stared at the book. He couldn’t believe his luck. He had thought he would never again see the diary, but now it lay conveniently before him. A glance at the grandfather clock in the room told him that he had more than enough time to take a look at it before anybody would wake up. 

He took the diary into his hands. The previous day, he had still felt a twinge of reluctance and guilt when thinking about looking into his master’s secrets, but there was no doubt in his heart now. If Lord Fiske had been lured into that woman’s web and convinced into thinking that genetic mutation was what he needed, it was Bates’s responsibility to find out everything that might help in bringing the man’s life back on track before it was too late. 

With a mix of curiosity, worry and even fear, he opened the diary and started reading. It seemed like he had written something every day, but Bates decided to skim and read only those entries that looked like they had something to offer him.

_12th of April_

_My arrival at the school was not exactly what I was expecting. My father’s journals told of a thriving community of martial arts experts with vast knowledge on the nearly forgotten aspects of Tai Shing Pek Kwar and the legends tied to the art. I recall the many times he said how he wanted to bring me here to further improve my skills. Upon arriving, however, I soon realised that the glory days are a thing of the past and that the school has fallen to decay, both literally and figuratively._

_Only the old master and some of his pupils remain. The people living in the town by the mountain have lost interest in the school and no longer send their children to study here, so there is very little fresh blood and few young ones. I estimate the whole school will disappear in a generation or two unless they manage to find a strong master to replace the old one when he passes away._

_They didn’t exactly regard me with warm welcomes when I arrived, but once I explained whose son I was, they were more accepting of my presence. Apparently, the school has never been and will never be open to foreigners, with some exceptions. Master Lo recalled my father and granted me the chance to prove my worth to study with them, but I’m unsure whether this is going to lead me anywhere._

_13th of April_

_I have been allowed to stay at the school, but the day has not been a complete success. I joined the others for training this morning and was dismayed to realise that they have mastered forms of Tai Shing Pek Kwar that I have never encountered in my life. As a result, fighting them was difficult and I suffered some embarrassing blows before I learnt their patterns and how to anticipate their next move. That was not ideal for convincing Master Lo that he should trust me with the most guarded secrets of the school. I suppose it is a small victory that he didn’t kick me out right away._

_16th of April_

_Training with the others has turned out to be more interesting than I was expecting. They don’t seem too willing to share their secrets with me, but I have been studying their every move, and I’m fairly confident that I have discovered the patterns behind some of their forms. Still, I must be careful not to copy them the wrong way and do unnecessary damage to my skills. Considering that this is monkey kung fu, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that they’re trying to trick me._

_The past few days have taught me that I was more out of shape than I thought. I have wasted too much time studying and sitting idly at home. Now is the time to step up, brush up on my skills and start taking care of this body._

Bates frowned to himself after reading these three entries. The only surprising thing he could see about them was that Lord Fiske’s trip had taken him to an old martial arts school instead of a famed university or museum. Other than that, nothing stood out. It was even a relief to read such coherent entries from his master, even if they had been written months ago.

_25th of April_

_I have now been here for almost two weeks, and my patience is wearing thin. I have tried to approach Master Lo about his secret knowledge several times now, but he refuses to speak of it. He says I have potential, for an outsider, but that I am nowhere near ready to know what he does. That old fool! It is obvious that the school’s rotten state is because their master is a senile idiot who has lost his perception and wisdom. I suspect I will learn nothing from him._

_28th of April_

_I am still not welcome here. The students will not talk to me unless I address them directly, and Master Lo is always talking about what a great man my father was. I am growing tired of his constant babbling because I know his words are a thinly guided message that I am supposedly not the man my father was. Not that I would ever want to be. Despite all his virtues, he lacked vision and ambition._

_I wonder if it’s possible that Master Lo himself does not know about the monkey statues either. The knowledge could have been lost over the centuries. His school certainly bears no resemblance to the famed warrior tribes of Tai Shing Pek Kwar, and it’s possible only fragments of the secrets have survived to this day._

_7th of May_

_I approached one of the younger students. They’re less loyal to Master Lo than the others and more eager to learn about the outside world. The lad I picked is overly curious about what lies beyond the walls of the school, and charming him with stories of my adventures was child’s play. I am not yet sure if I will gain anything from this, but it might become useful to have at least one ally in this wretched place._

_10th of May_

_Shin has proven that he doesn’t know much that could be of interest to me, but I still find him a useful tool. He may not know anything about the monkey statues that I haven’t already discovered on my own, but he does have some interesting stories to tell. Apparently, there is an ancient temple further up in the mountains, and Master Lo is the only one allowed to go up there. Nobody has any idea what the place hides, but I have my suspicions. I would be very surprised if the temple was not a hiding place for the second monkey statue, considering that this school was once so grand and respected. Guarding the statue must have been a mission placed on their shoulders by the original warriors._

_I don’t think it’s wise to attempt climbing up the mountain and retrieving the statue just yet. Despite Master Lo’s refusal to share his secrets with me, there is still much I can learn from them about improving my martial arts skills. I doubt I will ever be able to return once I’ve taken their statue, so I must make good use of my time here._

This entry made Bates frown with some discomfort. Lord Fiske’s writing made it look like he was planning to steal the statue. That wasn’t something the valet could condone, even if they had sometimes bent the rules of archaeology a little to get what they wanted. At least the law was usually on their side, but that wasn’t the case this time. 

He was also somewhat bothered by the manipulative tendencies his master was showing in his entries. Fiske didn’t sound like someone genuinely interested in studying with the others but rather like someone who only wanted to suck them dry of everything that might be useful to him and then leave them behind. That clashed immensely with both the polite face and the angry bursts of impatience that Bates was used to.

_14th of May_

_Finally success! I was able to defeat Master Lo’s best pupil in combat, much to the surprise of everybody. They were not expecting an outsider to triumph so soon without any proper teaching, but I showed them who has truly mastered Tai Shing Pek Kwar. I suspect even Master Lo was impressed because he said he would speak to me tomorrow. I must rest well before that._

_15th of May_

_Speaking with Master Lo has given me much to consider. He congratulated me on my victory and said that I had surprised him. He had not been expecting me to have reached my father’s level of skill, and he admitted that he had let first impressions lead him. I tried to ask him what he meant by that, but he wouldn’t give me an answer. I doubt he took me for an inexperienced amateur when I arrived because I have practised monkey kung fu all my life. It must have been something else about me, but that’s hardly important._

_I asked him if he would be willing to tell me more about the school, its history and connection to Tai Shing Pek Kwar. I didn’t mention the four monkey statues because I didn’t want to make him suspicious now that he has finally started to trust me somewhat. To my slight surprise, he agreed to share some of their legends with me, but only those that he had told my father as well. This was a disappointment since I already more or less know them, but it was still enlightening to hear them from a different source._

_The school was founded during the Qing Dynasty by two brothers who wanted to train a noble army of masters of Tai Shing Pek Kwar to protect the area from bandits who were living in the mountains. They soon gathered many followers and were eventually able to defeat their enemies, bringing peace to the area. The Emperor was so impressed by their skills that he granted the school the privilege of functioning as an independent organization. It grew into almost a guild and had representatives in the court and agents in many neighbouring countries, not to forget tremendous wealth. All of this was brought to an end when the dynasty fell in 1912, but the school was able to survive despite the chaos in the country, or maybe because of it. It has only fallen to decay in the past years because western culture has crept into people’s lives and they no longer have enough interested pupils, benefactors or power. Master Lo doesn’t seem bothered by this, however. He says that hard times are when one sees who is loyal and fit to become a real master of Tai Shing Pek Kwar._

_I told him that I already knew most of this through my father, but he said that it is never fruitless to recall how the origins of the school are in honour and wanting to use monkey kung fu for the common good. I must admit I found his babbling somewhat irritating. To me Tai Shing Pek Kwar has always been a way to improve myself, and since I cannot think of a way to use it to help others nor am I particularly interested in it, it’s a waste of time to even consider the issue._

_I was annoyed that he didn’t say a word about the four monkey statues, so I asked if he could tell me anything else about the two brothers. I suspect they must have been members of the tribe that originally had the statues. All Master Lo told me was that the younger one moved to live in Japan because he married the daughter of a master of a local ninja school. He might have taken some of his secrets with him. I will have to look into this at a better time._

_20th of May_

_I have spent the past few days polishing my martial arts. It is hard for me to believe how much I have improved in such a short time, and yet I feel like something is missing. I know my timing is perfect, my moves fluid and have enough strength to defeat everyone else here in combat. Despite this there is a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that keeps telling me that I could still be better, but I don’t know how I could achieve that level._

_I am also starting to question whether my trip here was an utter waste of time. While I do appreciate improving my monkey kung fu, my main objective was to learn more about the four monkey statues and the legends behind them. Books cannot tell me anything else, so if I fail to get the information from Master Lo, everything will have been useless. I wish Bates were here. He always sees something I’ve missed in my enthusiasm, so I’m sure he would know what to do._

_It is very rarely that I find a subject as interesting as these monkey statues. It tends to be that all fascinating mysteries are either already solved by someone else or there is so little information left that it is impossible to make any solid discoveries. I am certain that Master Lo and maybe some others elsewhere know the truth, or at least part of it. I can't even say how frustrating I find it that they refuse to share their knowledge. If anything were to happen to them, everything would be lost and the four monkeys would remain nothing but a faint myth. Even more importantly, legends such as these are meant to be shared and researched in the academic world. Apart from being a fascinating subject of study, it is also my responsibility to reveal everything I can to my colleagues._

_24th of May_

_Master Lo was watching our training again this morning, but this time he pulled me aside after we were done. He said he had noticed something about my style that he found curious and that he wished to discuss it. I could sense that there would be criticism, so I tried to keep an open mind, though I must admit that my monkey kung fu is something I do not want others to meddle with. Whatever improvements or mistakes I make are mine, and they're nobody else's business._

_He told me that my style was very similar to my father's. I replied that it was only natural since he had taught me for so many years, but Master Lo did not seem very satisfied with this answer. He said that there was something in my style that he had never seen in my father and that it was something rough and unpolished. I bit back an angry retort and asked what he meant by that. He didn't answer me right away, but after a while he asked how much time I spend meditating outside training._

_I must say I was somewhat surprised by this. While meditating is a good way to centre one's thoughts when one is troubled, I have never considered it a very useful method for me. I have always been able to find some other way to get past my problems, and I do not see the appeal of wasting my time doing nothing. I told Master Lo that I have never felt the need to turn to meditating, not even to calm down after intensive training. I rather enjoy the rush of adrenalin in my veins. It keeps me sharp._

_I could see that Master Lo was not impressed by my answer. His frown deepened in a way that for some reason reminded me of my father whenever he was displeased with me. I do not like feeling like someone is looking down at me, so this realisation alone was enough to make me put up my guard. I said that I have done perfectly fine in my own way and that I don’t need to change anything._

_He replied by stating that this was where I differed from my father. I had trouble stopping myself from groaning at that; I am growing tired of hearing about him all the time. I suppose he was the kind of man they like in these secret schools – patient, honourable and all too willing to do everything in his power to assist others, never realising how much more he could have gained if he had focused more on himself._

_I told him that while I do respect my father’s memory, I do not wish to follow his example in everything and that I have different ways of reaching my goals in life. I expected Master Lo to give me a lecture about patience and how I should try to become more like my father, but all he said was that I was much younger than my years had made him expect. I know what he’s trying to tell me, but since I couldn’t disagree any more, I am not going to trouble myself with it._

_26th of May_

_Master Lo appeared at my quarters after the day’s training was over. I was immersed in one of my books about local history at the moment, so I was not very happy to be interrupted. However, politeness required me to put my studies aside for a while and hear what he had to say._

_To my frustration, he had come to instruct me on meditating because he thought that the supposed roughness in my style was a result of my body not being in harmony with my mind. I rather wished that he would have left me alone so that I could have gone back to reading, but it would have been inexcusable to throw the master out when I was a guest at his school. I had no option but to humour him._

This was where Bates decided to start skimming more. There was still much to be read, and he knew he didn’t have too much time before he would have to leave the study and go make breakfast. As of yet, he hadn’t found anything that seemed out of place or could have explained his master’s odd and almost obsessed behaviour. He was almost starting to doubt his own conclusions. Maybe the fault lay somewhere else. 

The next few entries contained Fiske’s complaints about how he didn’t think meditating was helping him achieve anything and how annoyed he was starting to feel by Master Lo’s insistence that it was good for him. It reminded the valet of the times he had witnessed Fiske talk back to his father about the same thing. He had always been too impatient to properly sit still for a long time and concentrate his thoughts.

_5th of June_

_Meditating has become a regular routine in my daily life, mostly because Master Lo insists on it and because I don’t wish to anger him needlessly. I’m still hoping that he might share his knowledge with me later if I can convince him that I’m worthy of it. If that doesn’t happen soon, I will have to come up with another plan._

_Despite how little I enjoy meditating, I must admit that it does have some merits that I had missed before. I sleep better if I centre my thoughts before nightfall, and I find it easier to concentrate on my studies if I have first cleared the day’s events from my mind. It might be worth considering taking up the practise whenever my life becomes too hectic._

Bates was just about to flip through some more pages to see if there was anything worthwhile coming up in later sections of the book, but it was then that the next entry caught his eye. Even before reading a single word he could tell that it was very different from the others and that it could hold the answers to his questions.

Lord Fiske’s usually precise and neat handwriting was sprawled all across the page, the words written in either great hurry or such a burst of emotion that the man had been unable to hold a pen properly. Some words were barely readable and the lines were shaky, making the whole entry look like the scrawling of a madman. 

_7th of June_

_Amazing! I just had the most brilliant vision! Words can do no justice to how vivid and strong everything was in my mind, and I doubt anybody would ever understand me even if I told them what I saw. Such strength! Such power! Never even in my wildest dreams did I think there might be any truth behind the old legends, but now I am convinced. There can be no other explanation for what I just saw. I want to fall on my back and laugh and laugh and laugh._

After that, the entry continued in a much more rational manner and in better handwriting, so Bates supposed his master had found the time to calm down after his discovery, whatever it had been. 

_I should be cursed for doubting the merits of meditation. I know now that I was entirely mistaken in my belief that it was nothing but a waste of time and that I could never benefit from it at all. From this day onwards, it shall be part of my daily routine with no exceptions. Who could have predicted that clearing the mind would prepare it for such amazing thoughts and visions as what I just experienced? Clearly there is still much the western man doesn’t know._

_I was sitting alone in my chambers and centring my thoughts after today’s training when it happened. All of a sudden, I was no longer aware of my body or surroundings. All I could feel was the immense power flowing through my veins and making me invincible. I cannot even explain what the feeling was like; it was hot and painful, but at the same time it filled me with such a sense of wonder and power that I wouldn’t have given a single moment of it away. All I could hear was the screeching of monkeys, but it was not unpleasant. In fact, I’m almost certain I could understand them, even though they spoke no words. They were greeting their chosen one and welcoming him – welcoming me! – as their new leader._

_When I came back to my senses, it felt like I had been away from my body for hours. I wasn’t physically exhausted, but my mind was filled with so many thoughts that I was certain I might go insane from the intensity of it. And yet even then there was one thought clearer than all the others. I knew with no doubt that I had just experienced what it feels like to be blessed with Mystical Monkey Power, the supernatural essence that the four monkey statues can give a man. I thought it was nothing but a legend and even now the rational part in me is trying to make me question my experience, but I know it was real. I am not insane, so what I felt must have been a genuine vision. Why I received it remains a mystery at the moment, but I will dedicate all my time to solving this riddle now._

What madness was this?

Bates only stared at the page and kept reading the last few lines again and again. He couldn’t believe that Lord Fiske could have written such words. This was not something he would have expected from his rational and scientific master. If it wasn’t for the familiar handwriting, he would have felt compelled to believe that someone had taken the diary and written childish rubbish into it. Lord Fiske didn’t believe in magic or legends; he was only interested in them because they told what the world view and culture of ancient peoples had been like. He had always reacted with condescending amusement whenever one of his colleagues had proposed that maybe there was some truth in told tales.

And yet he had a harder time imagining Fiske chuckling at the four monkey statues than raving about them with a mad gleam in his eyes. The man had been babbling something about destiny when he had returned from China, he had slowly grown more and more serious about the statues, and he had shown increasing worry about someone finding out that he had them. Could this be because the statues had become much more to him than a subject of fascinating research? Bates felt a chill go down his spine as the image of the grimacing jade monkeys flashed in his mind. 

_8th of June_

_I spoke to Master Lo about my experience. At first I was hesitant to do so because I was not sure if this was something I should share with anyone, but I decided that I am more likely to discover what I need if I consult someone who knows more than I do._

_He listened to my tale with interest. When I was done, he said that he was truly surprised. He had suggested meditation to me only because he thought I might benefit from it, but he had had no idea something more might happen. I asked him if he knew what my vision meant, and in my eagerness I let it slip that I know about the four monkey statues._

_He regarded me with silence, and for a moment I was afraid he might end our conversation there. Then he said that it was to be expected that hard times bring forth change. I tried to ask him what he meant by that, but he waved me into silence. I obeyed reluctantly, only because I was desperate to hear what he knew._

_He said that since I already had information about the statues, I had to be aware of their origins and what powers they supposedly had. He briefly repeated what I already know, namely that the statues were created and hidden by a secret tribe of practitioners of Tai Shing Pek Kwar who thought the power was too dangerous and didn’t want anyone else to discover it. Master Lo said it was better this way because such power can corrupt all but the strongest of men. Some members of the tribe itself had already started showing signs of madness. He said that legends speak of only one who is powerful and pure enough to wield Mystical Monkey Power without the danger of succumbing to it._

_I asked him if he knew where the four statues were hidden, but he dismissed my question and said that it was for the best if we didn’t even discuss the matter. The Chosen One would find the statues inevitably, and there was no reason to speculate about it. This answer made me furious, and I had a hard time stopping myself from grabbing the old man by his robe. How could he not recognise the importance of my vision?_

_9th of June_

_I now spend more time meditating than training with the others in the hopes of receiving another vision. Though the experience is still vivid in my mind, it is nothing but a memory. I would give anything to feel that power again._

_I remain doubtful about the story of the Chosen One that Master Lo told me about. Such stories are all too common for it have any real truth behind it. All I’m positive of is that there is more to the statues than meets the eye. Now that some time has passed after my vision, I find it hard to believe that they could truly grant a man any real power, but my curiosity has been awakened. I know now that I won’t have any rest before I’ve gathered all four and discovered exactly what they’re about._

_It is now more than ever that I wish Bates were here. I know he would react to all this with doubt and shrug my experience off as a dream or hallucination, but I feel it is exactly this critical thinking that I need. I know I am in the bad habit of letting my instincts get the better of me and make me commit rash actions that I might regret later. I am certain that my vision was genuine, but what I should do about it remains a mystery to me. I’m also sure Bates could offer me much needed advice on this matter. I don’t think I can trust anyone here at the school with my thoughts._

It was this final paragraph that Bates clung to. Now Fiske was sounding like himself again, even if the subject of his writing was still absurd and beyond his understanding. His master hadn’t gone insane with what he had experienced, or what he had thought he had experienced, but was still able to look at the situation in his usual manner. 

Despite this, he was afraid to continue reading. It would have been so comforting to stop there and pretend that this was all there was to it and that the matter with Mystical Monkey Power had never gone any further. It was only the memory of the insane rage in Lord Fiske’s eyes the previous evening that made Bates turn the page. 

_11th of June_

_I do not wish to talk to Master Lo anymore because I know he will not share his knowledge with me, and I don’t want to let him know that I have already acquired the first statue._

_Every time I try to centre my thoughts, they turn back to the statue we retrieved in Congo. Its face keeps jumping in front of me whenever I close my eyes, and I can almost hear it call out to me. How could I not realise that before? I have read about the statue, I have examined it, I have held it in my hands! How could it not be obvious to me that there was more to it, that it was an artefact of such power and mystique?_

_I fear there is only one path before me. It is essential that I acquire the second statue for study purposes and so that I can be certain of the legends and what they might mean for me. I must know more, and I feel that the rightful place of the statue is in my hands. Master Lo seems content with keeping it hidden up in the mountains, but I know that a great future cannot be reached with such cowardice. It is therefore essential that I steal the statue. It is the only way I can study it and maybe discover more about the legend Master Lo told me about. I believe this is a justified act._

_14th of June_

_As I write this, I am already safely on my way back home. The second monkey statue rests in my arms, and I need every bit of my willpower to stop myself from opening the bag and admiring it. I cannot wait to show it to Bates. It is even more magnificent than the first, or maybe I only feel that way because acquiring it was considerably harder than the case with the first statue. I doubt I will ever forget what happened, but I want to write all of it down now that I have hours to spare before we land in London._

_I talked to the lad whose interest I had managed to pique and asked for his help. I told him I wanted to get away from the school for the night to meet someone in town and that I could not consult Master Lo because of the personal nature of the matter. I asked him to keep guard by my chambers and stop everyone from entering them so that they wouldn’t know I was gone. I know that if anybody were to ask for me, he would have to reveal what he knows, which is exactly my plan. With everyone thinking that I had gone to town, they wouldn’t suspect of anything before it was too late._

_My journey to the top of the mountain was far from an easy one. I brought a torch with me, but I could not switch it on because the light would have been seen from the school. I had to keep stumbling in the dark, and it is only pure luck, or maybe fate, that I didn’t break my ankle or get lost on my way._

_It took me several hours to reach the temple. I could only make out the outlines of it in the dark, but it was obvious that it was in the shape of a monkey’s head, very much like the ruined temple in Congo. I stepped inside through the mouth, and it was now that I dared to give myself some light. I almost dropped the torch in my eagerness to see where I was._

_Due to the ruined state of the temple in Congo, I had been unable to even begin to imagine what it might have looked like in its prime. This temple was a mirror image of all that. There wasn’t a single scratch on the walls, the paint looked like it was fresh and the hallway was clear of dust and rubble. Lean monkey statues stood by the walls, each holding a plate with ancient writing. I would have delighted to stop and decipher them for further study for I’m sure they contained many secrets about the tribe of warriors who built the temple. I knew I had no time for that, so it was with a heavy heart that I had to pass them and continue on my way._

_Next, I found myself in a small round chamber with three different paths to choose from. This temple seemed to be much larger than the one in Congo, and it made me fear I might not find the statue in time. The walls of the chamber were covered in that same writing I had seen on the plates in the monkeys’ hands. More secrets I would never know. For a brief moment, I wondered if it wouldn’t have been a good idea to forget all about the statue and bury myself into research instead. I knew I could have easily filled at least one new book about everything I would discover at the temple. All the knowledge hidden there would have been more beneficial to the archaeological community than a mere statue._

_But I couldn’t do it. Maybe it’s selfish of me, but the statues have captured my mind and I know I won’t have a moment of rest before I have acquired them all and revealed their secrets. Before my arrival here, I thought it was purely academic interest, but my vision has made it more personal. Whether the power I felt was real or not, I feel that something ties me to the statues. Maybe it’s my destiny to reveal if the stories are true or not._

_This short moment of pondering made me careless. While I was still looking at the ancient writing on the ceiling, the floor started moving. My instincts told me to jump away from the moving tile, but in the dark I couldn’t see what was around me. The time I needed to turn the torch from the ceiling to the floor almost cost me my life, and it was only pure luck that I managed to jump to safety. The tile I landed on was soon moving as well, and only after three more attempts did I find a steady place to stand on. This little escapade had led me to the leftmost path, and it was now impossible to reach the other two or go back the way I had entered. The floor had transformed into a pit of acid, which I find quite an interesting choice for a trap. Not only does it mean that someone maintains the temple regularly, but also that they’re willing to rebuild the floor each time some adventurer enters. I will draw a diagram of this trap later and try to analyse it. It’s unlike anything I’ve seen before and it might prove useful in the third temple._

_I encountered several other traps on my way, but they were nothing out of the ordinary, merely a few death pits and spikes. I suppose the builders of the temple didn’t expect anyone to make it through the acid. I wasn’t overly worried about these traps, and the only thing bothering me was that the path I was following might not be the right one of the three._

_Fortunately, it turned out that I had been very lucky. I discovered a much larger chamber only about twenty minutes later. I could switch off my torch because the room was lit by real ones. Using electrical light there felt almost like a sacrilege._

_The chamber was decorated in much more detail than anything in the African temple. Monkey statues were standing by the walls like warriors or guardians. One curious thing I noticed about them was that they represented a very old style. I believe this is significant because Kou Sze didn’t found the art of Tai Shing until the late Qing Dynasty, which makes it impossible for the tribe of Tai Shing Pek Kwar practitioners to be very ancient. It could be that the four jade monkeys are in fact much older than that and belonged to some other culture or organization before them. Until this point, all my research has been directed at monkey kung fu, but I might do interesting findings if I go further back in time and start looking into older cultures._

_Note to self: ring Lee Tan about that altar_

_In retrospect, I realise the presence of flaming torches should have made me suspicious, but I was too captured by the chamber and everything I could see. At the centre of the room, standing on a tall pedestal, was the second monkey statue. There was some sort of architectural contraption, maybe mirrors, that made it bask in the light of the flames. For a moment I could only marvel at it, but then I took the first step towards it._

_There were no more traps, or at least I didn’t set off any, and the statue was easy to reach. I had to draw my hands back as soon as I lay them upon it because the statue sent a tingling sensation right through my body. Or maybe it was my imagination for it didn’t happen again, and I don’t recall anything like that happening with the first statue. What I know for certain is that this statue made more of an impression on me, and I could have stood there hours admiring it._

_Unfortunately, my quest was not to be as easy as I had planned. I suppose it is some sort of inevitable cliché that right when the thief (though I don’t really see myself as the villain here) is about to collect his prize, the hero arrives at the scene. I hadn’t thought I would meet anybody else at the temple, so I was quite surprised when Master Lo made an appearance all of a sudden._

_The man’s infuriating calmness was still present and he made no move to stop me from taking the statue, but he did have the nerve to mock me. He said that I had surprised him because he had been expecting me to succumb to the temptation much sooner than this. I realised that all my carefully planned safety measures had been in vain; this old fool had known I would try to take the statue all along. Knowing how jealously old schools such as this guard their secrets, I asked him why he hadn’t done anything to stop me. His warriors could have easily defeated me together._

_The answer he gave me almost made me laugh out loud. He said he believed that this was meant to be and that it was time for the statue to leave the temple so that it could fulfil its destiny. It was the usual mantra repeated by those who are unable to control their lives and want to blame it all on fate to feel better about it. Yet I saw some reason in his words. I was the one who had received the vision, and it was too much of a coincidence that the second statue just happened to be near the school my father had told me about. Maybe it was meant to be that I took it._

The entry continued further, but Bates had no interest to read the rest of it. He knew he was in a hurry if he wanted to finish before it was time to go to the kitchen, so he flipped through some more pages. There were no more diary entries, but the book was still filled with writing. Even the margins were covered in Fiske’s enthusiastic scribbling whenever he had run out of space. 

There was a technical drawing of one of the traps the man had described in writing, lots of dates and names that meant nothing to Bates, doodles of monkey symbols and geometric patterns and several paragraphs in some sort of ancient writing. These pages had no dates, so the valet supposed they were research notes Fiske had written after he had returned from China. There wasn’t anything suspicious about them, but somehow they left a bad taste in his mouth. Maybe it was that Fiske’s handwriting was unusually messy, like he had been so excited to pour his thoughts on paper that he hadn’t been able to control himself. Or maybe it was how most of the notes seemed to consist of mystical symbols, legends and myths. At the bottom on the final page, there was a round drawing with the four jade monkeys placed inside it. 

_It sounds insane, but everything I have discovered through my research seems to be pointing to one, single truth. Not only one but several of the ancient cultures had legends about someone who would learn to control a magnificent power and rise to greatness. The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that the vision was a sign to me. Mystical Monkey Power and I are tied together. My vision, Master Lo’s babbling about destiny, how I have already acquired two of the statues with little difficulty, the way the statues have captured my mind… all of this adds up and makes me even further convinced._

That was the end. Bates closed the book and put it back where he had found it, but he couldn’t bring himself to stand up just yet. Too many thoughts were going in circles in his head, and he had to rub his eyes to bring even some sense into the mess. 

“He can’t truly believe in Mystical Monkey Power, can he?” he whispered to himself as he turned to stare at the diary. His eyes were then drawn to the bookshelf where he had previously organized some of the books about magic, and he felt dread creep into his heart. This interest was surely only academic. It had to be.

And what if it wasn’t? He wouldn’t have read the diary in the first place if he hadn’t noticed something odd about Lord Fiske’s recent behaviour. The man’s obsessed interest in supernatural powers could no longer be called a mere hobby, especially if he really did believe in such nonsense. It didn’t even matter whether the vision he had so feverishly described in the diary was real or not; it still proved that Fiske had faith in something like that. It was utterly idiotic.

He had to do something about this. Bates knew that he would only succeed in making Fiske angrier with him, but he couldn’t just stand back and watch how his master fell deeper and deeper into this madness. Things had already progressed much further than they should have, and now could be his last chance to stop this. 

The only problem was how to do it. It had already become painfully obvious that Fiske didn’t want to listen to reason and was ready to push him away if he didn’t agree with him. He wasn’t really even employed anymore, and further arguments with Fiske would hardly help change that. If he said one negative word about the monkey statues, his master would drive him away even further. 

Yet it was all Bates could imagine doing. He saw himself as responsible for his master’s wellbeing, and not only as a valet, but as a friend as well. There had to be a way to open Fiske’s eyes to what he was doing with his life and bring him back to reality. If he had to do something drastic to achieve that, so be it. 

The only end he could see was the discovery of the fourth statue. Then Fiske could research Mystical Monkey Power to his heart’s content and hopefully grow bored of it once he realised that there was nothing magical about them and that his so called vision had been nothing but a trick brought on by his imagination and exhaustion after hard training. Fiske would never accept this truth if he didn’t see it himself, so Bates realised that his only option was to help his master to continue his quest for the final statue.

Of course, there was still the problem with the mutation plans. Bates had no idea how he could ever convince Fiske to give up that, not after the man had already made up his mind. 

He could have discussed this matter with me, he thought with a sense of disappointment. Why had Fiske kept something that big a secret from him? 

In any case, while the idea of mutation made him feel sick inside, he knew that any physical alterations wouldn’t do unnecessary damage to Fiske’s mental state. It was highly questionable and would lead to trouble with the rest of the world, but at least genetics was something firmly rooted in the real world. Fiske might regret mutilating himself like that in the long run, but maybe that was a lesson the man had to learn about getting too excited and not thinking things through. 

Bates shook his head to himself. He knew he would have to try his best to convince his master to give up on all his plans with Amy, but he was also aware that if offering his reluctant acceptance was what he had to do to keep his job, that was exactly what he would do. He wouldn’t be the first valet in history to close his eyes from the shocking exploits of his master in order to save the bigger picture.


	11. Chapter 11

Getting started on breakfast gave Bates the brief chance to forget about everything that had happened and pretend that this was nothing but a normal morning. Lord Fiske would read the paper while he drank tea, make some comment about what was going on in the country, maybe talk a little about his plans for the day and then retire to his study to research something that most certainly had absolutely nothing to do with Mystical Monkey Power. 

So strong was this illusion that it was broken only when Amy danced into the kitchen in a pink bathrobe. 

“Morning, Bates!” she chirped, making the valet slip and spill orange juice all over the table. 

“Madam,” he said hastily, “I will soon serve breakfast in the dining hall.”

Amy wasn’t at all bothered by his scolding tone and didn’t seem to realise that she had invaded his sanctuary. She walked over to the cupboard and took out a mug for herself. It was Bates’s favourite mug.

“I know, but I always drink my own brand of coffee in the morning. I didn’t want to be trouble, so I decided to make it myself,” she explained as she pulled out a small bag of coffee powder and started preparing her drink, humming some sort of happy tune to herself.

At least she brought some life into the kitchen. If it hadn’t been for the fact that she was an unstable lunatic who had no place in Lord Fiske’s company, Bates might have found the situation charming. He kept a wary eye on her as he continued making breakfast. 

Amy’s coffee was soon brewing, and she turned around and took a seat by the table. For a moment, she did nothing but played with a lone spoon in her hand, but after a while she turned to look at Bates. There was a worried frown on her freckled face. 

“I know this isn’t my business or anything, but did something happen last night? Monty was awfully upset after he came back. He didn’t smile again the whole time.”

Bates didn’t know what he should have replied. Pretending that everything was fine would have been useless because Amy had already noticed that something was amiss. She would no doubt witness the explosion that would follow once Fiske realised that his valet was still on his property. Yet he didn’t want to admit to her just how bad the situation was.

“His Lordship was not very happy with my response to your plans, madam,” he decided to say. That much Amy knew already.

“Oh.” Amy’s frown deepened for a moment as she pondered what to say. “I guess I’m sorry. Maybe we should have been a little more discreet about all that. We were just so excited about our plans that we didn’t think anybody would see anything wrong with them.”

Bates lifted a brow at her but didn’t say anything. It came to him as a slight surprise that Amy was level-headed enough to realise that not everyone might find her genetic experiments a normal procedure. It was much more than he could say about Lord Fiske at the moment. 

“I mean, I know people think I’m weird, but I’ve never really cared about that. I’m sure this is a science of the future and that one day my work will be appreciated!” Amy’s tone grew steadily higher and an excited gleam appeared into her eyes, making Bates wonder just how sane she was after all.

“And besides, as long as I’m happy, what does it matter what everyone else says? If I want to have a collection of living Cuddle Buddies, that’s what I’m going to do!”

Bates supposed that it made sense in some sick and twisted sort of way. If Lord Fiske wanted to have monkey hands and feet, why was it such a problem? It didn’t hurt anyone, and he was certainly old enough to make his own decisions. It wasn’t like doing this would change the man into a completely different person. In a way it was almost like getting a tattoo, only about a thousand times more extreme. 

Maybe he had been so upset about this because mutation was something new and fought against every social rule he could think of? He was sure his reaction would have been the same if Fiske had brought home a boyfriend in his teenage years. It simply wasn’t done. Maybe he was being a little too old-fashioned. This was the 21st century, after all. And yet…

“A man in Lord Fiske’s position should think about his public image. What will this procedure do to that?” he asked. It was a half-empty argument, he knew, for everybody already thought Fiske was a little on the odd side. Keeping mostly to himself and being blunt and interested in people on a professional level only were not qualities looked kindly upon in his social circles. Bates had long ago got used to how they no longer received party invitations.

Amy chuckled. “I’m not giving him a tail, you silly! He can wear shoes and gloves if he wants to keep it a secret, though I wish he wouldn't.”

“Madam, with all respect, I’m not sure I understand the point of this. What is his Lordship going to accomplish by this?” Bates asked. It was an oddly twisted idea, but he felt like Amy was the one who could give him sane and precise answers about this whole mess. She was the professional, after all, and Fiske was probably too excited to give any thought to the hard facts of the procedure.

The woman frowned in confusion. “I thought he has already talked about this with you. Just what did you do last night?”

Bates didn’t want to tell her how Fiske had exploded at him and thrown away years of servitude in his blind anger. It was too personal, and it almost made him feel ashamed. He knew that Fiske was prone to rash actions when he was angry enough, but a small part of him couldn’t help but think that he was inadequate somehow, that he was no longer good enough and didn’t fit into his master’s new plans.

“We didn’t go into details, madam,” he said.

“Oh, okay. You know how he got his hand hurt in that stupid accident and that it made him really upset. When I give him monkey hands and feet, he won’t have to worry about slipping like that anymore. He could be a trapeze artist after I’m done with him!” She paused to giggle for a moment. “And I think he has some kind of a monkey fetish, too! It’s really cute.”

“Lord Fiske is the world’s leading expert on everything simian, madam,” Bates pointed out with an offended edge in his voice. It was a serious academic achievement and one of the things Fiske was known for among his colleagues. Not a fetish!

Amy wasn’t bothered by his tone or words. Her sunny smile, flushed face and sparkling eyes made her look awfully cheerful for someone who had just woken up. She was the exact opposite of Fiske who always needed at least two cups of tea before he could function properly. 

“I know. I actually read one of his books when I was doing research for a journal. You know, back when I still did that kind of stuff.”

Bates found it hard to believe that this woman could have ever been a respected scientist in any circles. She was too unstable and there was nothing scientific about her; she was unpredictable and uncontrolled. She didn’t even fit the mad scientist description down to a T because there was nothing malicious about her. He hoped that she really did know what she was doing and that Fiske hadn’t chosen her merely because she was the only one insane enough to go along with his plans.

“It’s seems like a shame that you lost your position with the university,” he remarked.

This made Amy’s spirits wither a little. “True,” she admitted with a sigh. “I really wish I could still use their equipment and resources. I never realised how hard it is when you go solo, but I guess getting fired was to be expected after what I did.”

Somehow, this reminded Bates of Fiske. He didn’t like seeing parallels between his master and this woman, but he couldn’t deny that their situations were very similar. Both had deemed their personal interests more important than pursuing their careers and were now shunned by their colleagues, Fiske because he had abandoned them and Amy because she had conducted unethical experiments. Yet both of them seemed happier with what they had now than with what they had lost.

“Anyway, I only read about half of the book. Monty just drones on and on in his writing, but don’t tell him I said that,” Amy continued. 

“I won’t, madam,” Bates promised as he finished preparing the tea. To be perfectly honest, he had never been able to finish any of Fiske’s books either. The man was in the habit of assuming that everyone was an expert like him and therefore never explained the basics.

“Ooh, that smells really good! What is it?” Amy asked and leaned closer in interest.

“This is Lord Fiske’s favourite brand of tea. He gets it from a family friend in India. I hope it’s going to make him feel a little better about what happened,” Bates explained.

Amy pursed her lips thoughtfully. “You mean your argument? I think – hey, that’s my coffee!”

She got up from the table and went over to the counter where her coffee was now done. What she poured into her mug smelled of an odd mixture of cappuccino, apples and cinnamon. Bates doubted it would taste very good, but Amy seemed happy with what she had. 

“I think you should talk to him,” she continued as she was about to leave the kitchen with her mug. 

“I doubt it’s that easy, madam. I’m sure he’s still upset with me,” Bates said, thinking back to the mad rage on Fiske’s face. The man had looked almost inhuman. 

Amy tapped her cheek in thought for a moment before her expression brightened. “Oh, I know! I’ll take him some cake. That should make him feel better,” she said, came back and took a piece of fruitcake with her. She started humming her tune again as she skipped out of the kitchen and left Bates alone with his half-finished breakfast. 

At least she meant well. Bates supposed she had no idea how much damage her presence was doing to Lord Fiske’s mental state. She fed the man’s idea that he could have everything he wanted, no matter how expensive or insane it was. It wasn’t healthy to think that the entire world was there for your satisfaction. Up until now Fiske had been happy with what he could easily gain with his position, but these latest quirks…

Bates sighed as his thoughts were turned back to the diary. He still couldn’t quite believe what he had read in it. Everything made sense in this context, but it was too hard for him to accept it all of a sudden. Fiske really was convinced that his vision was genuine and that the statues held some sort of mystical power. Bates believed that neither of these ideas held any truth in them; Fiske had merely got too carried away when he had found more and more myths to feed his excitement and when nothing had contradicted him. If Bates had known that things would go this far, he would have said something much sooner.

He thought back to the many times he had asked about China and how Fiske had avoided his questions each time. Why hadn’t his master confined in him? He was the only one he could trust, and yet even he had been kept in the dark. If he had known, he could have done something to stop this.

“Now is not the time to wallow in self-pity,” he said to himself. Fiske had kept everything a secret from him on purpose, so it wasn’t his fault that things had come to this. It was a sign that this so called monkey magic had captured his master’s mind so strongly that he could no longer trust even his closest companion. There was nothing he could have done without the facts, but he had them now. Despite the recent lack of any genuine partnership between them, Bates knew that now was his time to start fixing the damage. 

He made sure he had enough of everything on the breakfast tray and started taking it to the dining hall. Before he reached the door, he could hear that both Fiske and Amy were present. 

“I already told you that I don’t eat cake for breakfast. It’s unhealthy,” Fiske said.

“Don’t be silly! You have to start the day with something sweet or you’ll be all grumpy,” Amy’s voice replied. 

When Bates entered the room, Fiske was just taking a piece of the cake with a reluctant grimace on his face. He let it drop back on the plate when he saw his valet arrive. His brows came together in a displeased frown and he growled under his breath. 

“I thought I told you to be gone by the morning,” he said icily. Bates wondered if the man had paid any thought to where they would get breakfast without him. Probably not.

“I couldn’t leave without talking with you first, milord.”

“I sincerely doubt I have anything else to say to you. Get out.”

“Silly me, I think I forgot something in my room. I’ll be back in a snap,” Amy said and hurried out, sensing an uneasy moment and not wanting to be caught in the middle of it. 

Fiske turned to glare at the newspaper without another word. He didn’t even glance at Bates as he turned the pages, even though it was obvious he wasn’t really reading anything. The valet knew that it was up to him to make the first move. Lord Fiske acted like such a spoiled child sometimes.

“I… is there no way to talk about this, milord? I think we both acted somewhat rashly yesterday,” Bates started. 

Fiske still said nothing, nor did he make a move to take anything from the breakfast tray. Bates shifted uncomfortably and wondered what to say next. 

“Milord, I am terribly sorry for lack of tactfulness last night. I didn’t know how to react,” he tried again.

“That’s still no excuse to blow it out of proportion like that.”

“I know, and I do offer my apologies, milord. This is a tad… unconventional, that’s all,” Bates continued. 

“I can understand that, but you have to remember your place. You have no say in my decisions,” Fiske stated.

“Of course, milord. Do forgive me,” Bates said. He couldn’t recall any other occasion when he had grovelled like that. Then again, he didn’t remember any other time when he had lost his job for being the only sane person in the room, either. 

Neither said anything for a moment, and the dining hall was entirely silent, save for the steady ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner. Bates realised he was holding his breath. If things didn’t go well now, he would have no choice but to leave the castle, maybe for good. He didn’t know what he’d do then.

“Your words last night were entirely uncalled for. I would think you’re wise enough to understand what the most sensible course of action in my situation is,” Fiske remarked as he turned another page.

“I was merely thinking of your wellbeing, milord. I don’t mean to doubt you, but are you sure you’ve considered all the consequences of these plans? I agree that enchanted agility and strength are worth striving for, but what about the price?” Bates asked. Though he had already half-way given up, he couldn’t quite let the issue rest before he had used every ace he had. 

“I have quite enough money to pay for this,” Fiske said.

“Ah, yes, but I meant the social price, milord. How will your colleagues react? This is not something you can hide forever. What will they say when you return to the museum and --”

“I’m not planning to return to the museum, so you don’t have to worry about that. What those idiots think of me could not concern me less,” Fiske said. Now he took one glance at his valet, and the cold and indifferent look in his eyes made Bates want to shake the man’s shoulders to snap him out of it. How could he have changed so much?

“What? But milord, what about your work?” he asked. He knew what kind of answer he would get, so he was not very surprised when Fiske said that he was more interested in the monkey statues and that he wouldn’t have to worry about his past life once he had revealed all their secrets. Only yesterday Bates would have shrugged all that off as melodramatics, but now that he had read the diary, he knew that Fiske was actually serious. Good Heavens. 

“Besides, I was getting bored at the museum. The jade statues were the first truly remarkable thing to come up in months,” Fiske pointed out. 

Bates searched his head to find at least one person in Fiske’s life who might object to the mutation, but it proved to be a difficult task. His family would no doubt throw a fit if they found out, but Fiske probably cared about their opinion even less than about that of his colleagues. 

“What about Mr Abercroft?” he asked. “I dare say he would deem this as foolishness.”

“Really? I rather think he would like the proposal. He has always been adventurous and open to new ideas,” Fiske replied.

“Yes, but --”

“Is that all you had to say? In that case, you had better leave so that Amy dares to come back and enjoy her breakfast. Her coffee is getting cold,” Fiske said. He had now reached the end of the paper and folded it back together, even though Bates was certain he hadn’t read a single word. 

Now Fiske was just being petty. Bates was quickly growing annoyed, which was not what he wanted to feel at the moment. It would make it even more difficult to just sit through everything that would probably follow. He forced his face to remain neutral, though the temptation to frown was quite difficult to resist. 

“How many times do you want me to apologize, milord?” he asked and couldn’t quite keep his tone properly polite. He had admitted he was wrong, he had said he was sorry, he had given signs that he would go through with this after all. What else could Fiske want of him?

Fiske shot a dry look at him. “It’s not an apology I want to hear. I want to believe that you will fully support me with my plans and not question me any longer. Frankly, after last night’s performance, I have my doubts about that, I’m sorry to say.”

Bates wanted to smash his head against the table. His reaction had been perfectly reasonable. Even Amy had realised that. He didn’t really enjoy the thought that she was showing more common sense than Fiske at the moment. 

“Nobody could have taken such new without some amount of shock, milord,” he pointed out.

“True enough. Maybe it is a sign that I am better off working alone from now on. Or maybe I should find help that doesn’t question my every word and action,” Fiske said.

“I’m afraid you won’t find anyone, milord.”

“I beg your pardon?” 

The look on Fiske’s face could best be described as surprise and some amount of shocked amusement at that Bates had yet again gone against him. It wasn’t often that the two of them disagreed on something, but now it seemed like they couldn’t be of one mind about anything. 

“I mean that I think it’s unlikely that you’re going to find someone who would take this better than I, milord,” Bates explained, realising that it wasn’t a good idea to let Fiske draw his own conclusions.

“Then I suppose I must continue alone. Pity, it’s a shame to see everything come to this.”

Bates knew his master well enough to realise when he was being played with. Fiske had already decided that he would keep him, but he didn’t have it in him to admit such a decision and take his words back. They would keep going in circles until Bates said the right words that would bring everything to an end they both could see coming. Fortunately, he had grown pretty good with the game over the years. Topics such as whether they should go to the funeral of Fiske’s disliked grandmother (they had) and whether it was socially acceptable to use their connections to help a relative’s niece get into university (it wasn't, but they did it anyway) had been resolved in this way. 

“I wouldn’t necessarily recommend that, milord,” Bates said.

Fiske looked at him with a brow lifted in curiosity. “Oh, and why is that?”

“I fully admit I am not aware what sort of procedure you and Ms Hall are planning, but I would think milord might need some help after it. I dare say I don’t trust anyone else but myself with your wellbeing,” Bates said. 

Fiske almost smiled at that and Bates knew he had won. “Very well. If you were anybody else, I would kick you out today, but since you have proved your worth in the past, I am inclined to give you another chance. Just make sure this sort of thing doesn’t happen again.”

“You have my word, milord,” Bates quickly promised.

This was when Amy decided to return to the dining room. She pushed her head through the door and took a careful look at the surroundings. 

“Is it alright to come in?” she asked and played with the tips of her short hair. 

“But of course. Do hurry or your coffee will get cold,” Fiske said. “We’re just about finished with our business.” 

“Oh, good,” Amy said with a sigh of relief. She glanced at Bates when she took a seat. “So, are we all friends again?” 

“Most certainly. Little disagreements can always be settled,” Fiske told her.

Yes, as long as milord gets what he wants, Bates thought dryly, but he couldn’t remain angry with the man now that he had been allowed to stay. He didn’t think that the matter was entirely forgotten but merely pushed under the rug for the time being. Knowing Fiske, his master would use his doubts as a weapon the next time they had any differences of opinion. Bates could only hope that once they had dealt with the monkey statues, everything that had happened because of them would be pushed aside to give space to more important matters. 

“We have already discussed most of the details regarding the procedure, but Bates here doesn’t know anything,” Fiske said and took a bite of a roll. “If you’re interested, we can go them over.”

“That would be appreciated, milord,” Bates said. The more he knew, the better he could prepare himself for what was to come. As long as they were simply planning, there was the chance that Fiske would come to his senses and forget everything about Amy and her experiments, but the valet knew he had to accept the possibility that these plans could soon become reality, too. Maybe he could stop shuddering at the idea if he learnt exactly what was involved. 

“Great! You should always double-check all your plans anyway,” Amy added as she munched on a crumpet. Bates hoped she wasn’t talking with experience. 

“So…” he urged carefully. He doubted anything the two would say could shock him more than the bomb they had dropped the previous evening, but it was unnerving that he had no idea what would come next. 

“Right. As you know, these useless human hands failed me in Indonesia and resulted in a needless injury. At first I didn’t think there was anything to be done about it, but I just happened to read Amy’s name when I searched her university’s site for an entirely unrelated article,” Fiske started. 

“That’s what I call fate!” Amy chimed in with a wink. 

Fiske cleared his throat and shot a half-hearted smile at her. “In any case, I read a little about her theories on gene splicing and realised that it was exactly what I needed. Monkey hands and feet to make me more agile and to ensure that no accidents will slow me down ever again!” His voice changed from a rational and calm explanation to a violently triumphant tone towards the end, and Bates blinked the absurdity of it all. He doubted most people would have come to the same conclusion after reading about genetics. 

“That’s quite a leap of logic, milord,” he dared to say. 

“Maybe,” Fiske huffed, “but once I got the idea, I knew how beneficial it would be. You already know that I did research about Amy and decided to meet her at the convention.”

“But her research… It was purely theoretical, wasn’t it?” Bates asked. He recalled Amy mentioning an attempt to create living Cuddle Buddies, but he found that hard to believe. Surely she couldn’t be that crazy? And who would finance such insanity? 

“It was supposed to be,” Amy giggled with a devilish grin, “but I used the university equipment to try it out in practice! And it was a complete success!” Her victorious smile faded a little when she continued, “Too bad they found out and fired me. I would have loved to experiment more with it.”

Bates thought she should have considered herself lucky that losing her job was all that had happened. A lawsuit would have been entirely justified in his opinion. However, he seemed to be alone with this opinion because Amy sighed wistfully and even Lord Fiske’s mouth was an unhappy line. 

“Yes, such a pity. It would be much easier for us if we still had access to that equipment,” he said.

Bates lifted his brows hopefully. “So, you don’t actually have means to carry on with your plans?” he asked. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to convince Fiske of the stupidity of this, but practical issues just might have more success. 

Amy shook her head. “No, but I’ve been planning to build my own lab. You know, like a secret villain’s lair type of thing! My grandfather left me some property near Mount Middleton, and it’s the perfect location. Money is the only problem,” she said.

“Which is why I’m volunteering to finance the whole thing in exchange for my new limbs,” Fiske announced.

Bates didn’t need to be a mathematician to realise that a project like that would cost considerably more than buying a rare stuffed toy. So much more, in fact, that he wasn’t sure if the entire family fortune would be enough to cover it. Lord Fiske had property, of course, but he had never shown much interest in handling business, so his income wasn’t what it could have been. 

“Isn’t that a little excessive, milord?” he questioned. 

“Excessive?” Fiske repeated like the meaning of the word was entirely unfamiliar to him. “What do you mean excessive? It’s the only option we have, or do you happen to know someone with high-tech equipment we could use?”

“But surely spending such vast sums is more than a little impractical, milord?”

“No if it gives me what I want,” Fiske snapped. 

“A project like that could take the whole family fortune. What will you do then?” Bates asked. 

Fiske glanced at Amy who in turn was playing with a biscuit and trying to look like she wasn’t listening to their conversation. She seemed uncomfortable with the idea that they were arguing because of her, and for once she wasn’t all smile and bubbly glee. 

“If everything goes according to my plan, I won’t have a need for money for much longer. We will discuss this matter later,” Fiske hissed at Bates with a menacing scowl.

“Anyway,” he continued and forced a bright smile on his face, “we haven’t told Bates about the actual procedure yet, have we?”

“Oh, right!” Amy was back in the game in a snap. She turned to look at Bates with child-like enthusiasm making her face glow. “You’re going to love this! I have never had a project like this, so I can’t wait to get started! My previous experiments dealt with mixing the entire DNA structure of two different species, so the result was always a complete hybrid. However, since we’re only altering hands and feet this time, it’s going to take a lot more work and care to get it done!” she babbled. 

Bates wasn’t sure how this was supposed to make him excited. If anything, it made him more worried. Visions of everything that could go wrong flooded his mind, starting with Lord Fiske as a horrible man-monkey. 

“I mean, if we went too far, Monty might lose his human vocal chords or grow a tail,” Amy chirped.

“That might be a tad impractical,” Fiske observed dryly.

“But of course that’s not going to happen. I know exactly what I’m doing,” Amy added quickly and smiled reassuringly at him. 

Bates wasn’t that convinced. He had never been one to watch movies, but he knew that if there was a non-tested and dangerous scientific experiment in the works, it always went wrong in the most horrible way. All they needed was a couple of teenagers to set things right again after their mess.

“But you said you haven’t done anything like this before, madam,” he reminded her.

Amy didn’t seem bothered at all. “But I’ve done something a little like it. Monkeys are closely related to humans, so mixing the DNA is not going to be too difficult. My first experiment was with a Welsh corgi and a Tasmanian giant crab, two animals from completely different families. And it worked perfectly! She’s the cutest little thing! Here, let me show you a picture.” With that, she drew a photo from her pocket and shoved it at Bates’s face.

The picture showed what would have been an adorable little dog if it wasn’t for the crab limbs in place of its legs. The dog didn’t seem one bit bothered by what had been done to it and looked almost as if it was smiling when looking at the camera with its tongue dangling out. 

“I call her Lucy,” Amy said when Bates handed the picture back. 

The valet thought the creature was morbid, and he couldn’t help but feel a stab of pity for the dog. To be subjected to someone’s crazy experiments had to be the worst fate for any animal. In his opinion what Amy was doing wasn’t any different from animal testing, but he was wise enough not to say it to her and definitely not in Lord Fiske’s presence. 

“How… fascinating,” he managed to say. 

“Isn’t it? I can’t wait to have my own lab so that I can make myself more cuddly friends!” Amy said. 

Lord Fiske cleared his throat with an impatient frown on his face. “Getting back to the point,” he said, “we’re still undecided about what species of monkey we’re going to use in the procedure.”

“I like squirrel monkeys. They’re awfully cute,” Amy said.

“Being cute isn’t near the top of my list of qualities I hope to gain from this,” Fiske said in a strained voice. Bates got the feeling that this was something the two had already discussed to great lengths, much to Fiske’s displeasure. 

“Too bad. You’d be so adorable with a face like that. And they’re really agile and fast, too,” Amy said. “And then there’s also the problem of acquiring the DNA. Common squirrel monkey DNA is easy to get, but many other species of monkeys and primates are nearly extinct.”

“I know,” Fiske said as he tapped his chin in thought. 

“I don’t really care which species we use, but from my point of view it would be the easiest if we used a primate whose DNA structure is as close to humans as possible. The risk of complications would be considerably smaller,” Amy said. 

“Hmm. That would mean a chimpanzee, possibly a gorilla, or…” Fiske stopped all of a sudden and turned his eyes from the table to Amy with an excited beam on his face. “What about an orangutan?” he asked. 

“That would work,” Amy said, “but where are we ever going to get orangutan DNA? They’re almost extinct.”

Fiske was all self-satisfied smile when he said, “Trust me when I say that it’s not going to be a problem.”


	12. Chapter 12

They were almost finished with the planning stages, so it was time for Amy to return to the States and start preparing her part at Mount Middleton. It was agreed that Fiske would transfer her as much money as she needed for building a high-tech laboratory. In the meantime, he would wait for his hand to heal properly so that they could start as soon as everything was ready. 

It was with a light heart that Bates waved at Amy as she disappeared into the terminal. He didn’t think that her departure would suddenly change Fiske’s mind about the mutation, but it felt good that it was just the two of them again. Everyday life made a tad more sense now that he didn’t have to fear being subjected to her enthusiastic ravings about Cuddle Buddies and everything else she loved.

“What do we do now, milord?” he asked as they were returning to the car. 

“I think that much is quite obvious. We have to acquire that DNA we need from Nigel, and then we wait,” Fiske replied in a light tone. 

Bates shifted uncomfortably at the driver’s seat. For him, tricking an old friend into helping them with their illegal business was a sickening thing to do, but Fiske only saw it as an adventure. It was all the excitement he was going to get in a while because he was now more careful about his hand than ever before. If it didn’t heal well enough, the whole genetic procedure would be pointless. 

“I don’t suppose we could just ask him, milord?” he suggested. 

“I believe we could, though it wouldn’t be wise to reveal too much of our plans to him. While I think Nigel wouldn’t object to my goals, I doubt he would want to get any of his animals involved in something questionable. He loves that zoo more than anything else in the world.” His last words were marred by contempt.

“It is where he and your father did their life’s work,” Bates pointed out.

“Horribly sentimental, if you ask me, especially if it’s as hindering as this.”

Bates didn’t say anything. He knew that in the past he would have said something about how important their work had been to Abercroft and the late Gregory Fiske or remarked how Fiske was equally attached to his own interests. Now, however, he decided it was for the best to play it safe and provoke his master as little as possible. He didn’t want to spark another fire with some innocent comment. 

Fiske wasn’t bothered by his valet’s reluctance to converse. In fact, he seemed all too happy to be doing the talking for the both of them, like he was speaking to himself only.

“I could of course claim that I need the DNA for a friend who is conducting some sort of research, but then he would get curious about it and want to know the results. He probably wouldn’t take it well if he found out I had lied to him. No, it’s probably for the best if he doesn’t know something is amiss,” he pondered.

Bates didn’t like the sound of that. “You aren’t planning to take the DNA without telling him, are you, milord?” he asked. True, Fiske had shown no guilt for stealing the jade statue in China, but this was different. They were dealing with one of the rarest animals on the planet, a primate that he had thought was among the closest to Fiske’s heart. 

“Why not? It’s the best solution to the problem.”

It looked like all of his best solutions lately were ones that made Bates’s skin crawl. “Wouldn’t it be a little unethical, milord? I mean, Mr Abercroft is one of the family’s oldest friends and using the orangutan for our interests without his permission doesn’t seem right.” 

“Sometimes the end justifies the means,” Fiske snapped in irritation. 

Bates almost pointed out that this wasn’t what Fiske had said a few years ago when he had publicly objected to the use of monkeys in researching a possible cure for the diseases mankind hadn’t defeated yet. The words were at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t force them out. He didn’t want to acknowledge how his master was doing exactly what he had condemned before. His actions were even worse because he was planning to use the orangutan for purely selfish reasons. 

“Is the procedure going to harm the animal, milord?” he asked. He had no expertise in genetics, so he had no idea what they exactly needed. Maybe it was only a few hairs from the primate, but for all he knew, they might have to chop its head off. 

“Amy said that all we need is a blood sample. Apparently, she already has some files about the genetic structure of orangutan DNA and all she needs is a genuine sample of it,” Fiske explained. 

“That’s a relief to hear,” Bates said. He couldn’t help but wonder what Fiske would have done if they had had to bring harm to the animal. Did he want new hands and feet so bad that he would have gone against his own principles to get them? He was glad he would never have to know.

“I’m not going to be relieved until I have that DNA,” Fiske remarked. 

“Shall I arrange for a meeting with Mr Abercroft, milord? We still haven’t invited him for dinner.”

Fiske shook his head. “No need. I will deal with this myself. I’ll tell you if I need your help.”

“Very well, milord.” To be honest, Bates would be only happy if he didn’t have to take part in whatever Fiske was planning, but at the same time he didn’t want to let the man do it alone. He had always known that his master needed a constant voice of reason by his side, but until now he hadn’t had any idea just how far the man could go if he got too carried away. 

“May I suggest something, milord?”

“What is it?” Fiske’s tone was somewhat surprised. He had obviously expected this line of conversation to be over.

Bates hesitated for the briefest moment before he spoke. “Whatever means you deem necessary for acquiring the DNA, I do hope that they won’t stain our relationship with Mr Abercroft.”

Fiske let out a small chuckle. “Oh, don’t you worry about that. I have no plans of making Nigel angry. He might be useful to me later on.”

“Ah, I was actually referring to your friendship with him, milord. It would be a shame to lose it after all these years,” Bates said. 

Fiske didn’t say anything to that.

***

About a week later, they found themselves back at the zoo. Fiske had ringed Abercroft and asked if they could come visit him again and take another look at Edward the orangutan. 

“He truly is a marvellous animal,” he said to the old man as they were walking to the primate house. 

Abercroft was smiling deviously. “Ah, I see. You’re only interested in the orangutan. No wonder you didn’t ring me until you felt like seeing him again,” he said. Though his voice held a teasing tone, Bates could tell that the man was worried. The valet hadn’t forgotten the words they had exchanged during the previous visit. In his opinion, Lord Fiske was showing bad manners by contacting the man only when he needed something from him. 

“I apologize. I have been very busy with my private research lately,” Fiske explained. 

“Ah, yes. That.” Abercroft glanced at Fiske’s hand but made no questions about the matter. 

There was something different about Abercroft this time, but Bates couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The man looked the same as last time, but maybe his steps were a little shorter, or maybe he was actually using his cane this time instead of carrying it around for show. When they had to go uphill for a while, the old man couldn’t keep up with Fiske’s pace. Bates slowed down to wait, but Fiske didn’t notice anything until after a while. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” was all he said when Bates and Abercroft reached him.

“Are you alright, sir?” Bates asked in worry. He reached out in case Abercroft needed support, but the man pushed him away with a chuckle. 

“I’m fine!” he said forcefully. “Just a little tired. I haven’t had enough sleep with these new penguins arriving last week. Horrible little buggers.”

“You really shouldn’t exhaust yourself with work,” Fiske pointed out. He received a glare from both Bates and Abercroft. 

“I don’t think you’re the best person to hand out that sort of advice, Monty-boy” Abercroft said and poked Fiske between the ribs with his cane. “And I said I’m fine. Let’s keep going!”

They reached the primate house after about ten minutes and entered. Edward the orangutan was sitting idly in his cage and munching on something. He turned to look when they arrived but showed no particular interest in their presence. 

“He’s been a little tired lately, so we’re trying to acquire a mate for him. It wouldn’t hurt to have a few more orangutans in the world,” Abercroft said and nodded at the primate.

“Yes, I read about that latest hotel project in Sumatra. I cannot believe they got the permission to start it,” Fiske said. 

“New jobs and more tourists is probably a more attractive idea than preserving the nature. I could maybe understand if the money was going to the locals, but I recall the owner being some French billionaire,” Abercroft added. 

Fiske only cringed at that. Bates watched his master and wanted to believe that he was truly interested in this topic, but the light tone in the man’s voice told otherwise. The Fiske he knew would have been enraged that something like this was going on, but now he seemed only mildly annoyed. He probably couldn’t care about anything else as long as he hadn’t got what he wanted. 

And that reminded him of their plan. Fiske had told him to distract Abercroft with something while he took the blood sample. Bates hated the idea of tricking an old friend like that, and he could only shift with discomfort when he thought about what the orangutan could do to Fiske if the animal got mad. 

“You don’t think I could take a look at him?” Fiske asked casually and pointed at Edward.

“From inside the cage?” Abercroft asked.

Fiske shrugged. “Why not? It’s the closest I can get to seeing one in real life.”

“I’m not too sure about that. Edward doesn’t seem to like people very much, probably because of what was done to him in the past. There are only two carers he gets along with,” the old man said with a doubtful frown. 

“Oh, don’t be silly. You know I can handle myself, and this isn’t my first time dealing with primates,” Fiske insisted. That much was true, but in the past he had been nothing but a genuine simian lover. Now there was something malicious about his interest, and Bates wondered if Edward wouldn’t notice that. 

“If something goes wrong, it’s my responsibility,” Abercroft pointed out, though Bates already knew he would give in. If the man had one weakness, it was that he could never deny anything from those he cared about. Considering his age and how he had never married, there weren’t too many such people in his life anymore. Fiske could easily get all the attention he wanted. 

“Nonsense! If I’m maimed to death, Bates here can vow that I went against your orders when you two turned your back on me,” Fiske said with mirth. There was a mischievous smile in his eyes, challenging Abercroft to join the game. 

“You know I don’t like to be manipulated into doing something, Monty-boy,” Abercroft said. He pressed his hand against his heart in fake hurt. “You aren’t merely trying to take advantage of a poor, old man, are you?”

“I think past has already proven that I never give up until I get what I want,” Fiske continued their joke. 

“True enough. I always told Gregory that he shouldn’t let your mother spoil you like that. Just look what it did to you,” Abercroft pointed out. Even as he spoke, he waved an animal carer to them and asked him for the keys to Edward’s cage. The young man seemed a little doubtful at first, but as soon as he recognised both Abercroft and Fiske, an appearance of pure admiration appeared on his face and he would have worshipped them if they had wanted that. 

“So young, so enthusiastic,” Abercroft chuckled as he opened the door and let Fiske into the cage. 

“My, are you implying that you’re getting tired? I never thought I’d hear that from you,” the man said. He shot a meaningful glance at Bates when he entered the cage, and the valet knew it was time for him to do his part. 

“Sir, may I speak with you?” he asked in order to draw Abercroft’s attention away from Fiske and Edward. 

The old man turned to look at him with some surprise on his face; it was very rarely that Bates started a conversation with someone when his master was present. 

“But certainly. What’s on your mind?” he asked. 

“It is somewhat of a delicate subject, sir,” Bates replied and shot a meaningful glance at Fiske. The man was currently talking to Edward in a low voice and letting the animal get used to his presence inside the cage. 

Abercroft blinked. “Oh,” was all he said. He nodded at the door and soon the two of them were outside. Fiske now had the chance to proceed with his plan if Bates could keep Abercroft busy long enough. 

“Alright, what’s wrong with Montgomery?” Abercroft asked. All carefree humour was gone from his voice and face. Bates supposed that he had given the man quite a scare with his unusual antics. If Abercroft only knew what was going on, he would have been twice as worried. 

“I am a tad concerned about His Lordship,” he started. He knew he would never betray Fiske’s trust and tell Abercroft anything about the four jade monkeys or the plans with Amy, but there were a few things he could say without guilt. 

“Yes? Is the hand still bothering him? He must be going out of his mind by now, not being able to do anything,” Abercroft guessed. 

Bates shook his head. “No, sir, or at least not directly. I’m afraid I might be crossing a line with such talk, but I believe he is lonely. His private research is taking so much of his time that he has stopped corresponding with his colleagues. I fear being so secluded could be unhealthy for him.”

“Monty has always been like that. I suppose you’ve tried to talk to him? Yes? Well I can guess his reaction to that. Stubborn as a mule!”

“I was hoping that you could be of company to him. His family is useless in this regard, I regret to say,” Bates said. Abercroft was the only person he could imagine knocking some sense into Fiske. If he could just get the two of them to spend some time together, much like in the past, he was certain that his master would be reminded of how there was a life outside his interest in the jade statues. Maybe he would even get back in touch with the museum if Abercroft’s company was stimulating enough.

The old man frowned in what Bates took as annoyance and disappointment. “You know I would love nothing better than that, but I think it’s obvious that Monty isn’t interested in my company. I can’t do anything if he won’t welcome me.”

“I suppose you have a point, sir. I do wish he was more approachable,” Bates said. Things had been much better when Fiske’s father had still been alive. He had preferred his own company even back then, but at least he seemed to have cared enough about his image to stay in touch with family and friends. 

“Well, other than putting him in a straightjacket and locking him up, I can’t see how anyone could make him do anything he doesn’t want to,” Abercroft pointed out. The comment made Bates shift with discomfort; it was a little too close to what he had been thinking about the past few days. 

“Still, sir, I think --” he started, but he was interrupted by a startled cry from inside the primate house. One worried glance at Abercroft told him that the old man was thinking the exact same thing he was, and the two of them rushed back inside.

I shouldn’t have let him go through with this. That animal is dangerous, Bates thought as he pushed the door open. 

“Milord?” he called out. 

What he saw made him freeze on his tracks so that Abercroft almost collided with him. The orangutan was pinning Fiske to the ground with one hand, pushing so hard that the man couldn’t do anything to struggle free. He was holding something small in his uninjured hand, but he quickly slipped it into his pocket before it was noticed by anyone else. 

Bates didn’t dare to breathe. Life with Fiske had taught him enough to know that the primate could crush his master in a split second if he so desired. Thankfully the animal didn’t look enraged; it was gazing down at the trapped man with a look that seemed mostly curious and only somewhat angry to Bates. Then again, he didn’t really trust his ability to read an orangutan’s facial expressions. 

In fact, he was more worried about the look on Fiske’s face. The beginning of a grin was playing on his lips, and he was staring at the orangutan, his eyes shining with a mixture of utter awe and triumph. There was something mad about the whole situation, and Bates wanted to call out and tell his master to get his priorities straight. 

“Don’t move, Monty,” Abercroft said calmly in order to not upset the orangutan any further. The primate turned around at the sound of a familiar voice. 

“Here, here, Edward. Be a nice boy and come to me,” Abercroft cooed now that he had the orangutan’s interest. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two sugar cones, no doubt a rare treat. 

While this was going on, Bates kept an eye on what Fiske was doing. To his dismay, the man didn’t seem to be one bit worried about what was going on. Quite the opposite; he was regarding Abercroft’s attempt to save him with snide amusement covering his features, like he thought the whole thing was pathetically funny. For the first time in decades, Bates felt like giving Fiske a box on the ears for being an idiot.

The orangutan hesitated for a moment but the temptation of the sugar proved to be too strong. He slowly turned around and walked to the other end of the cage where Abercroft was, leaving his prey behind. 

“Are you alright, milord?” Bates hurried to ask as soon as the orangutan was a safe distance away. 

“Yes, quite. I only got a little shock, that’s all,” Fiske said and used his left hand to brush sand off his clothes and straighten his jacket. 

“What happened? Edward has never attacked anyone before,” Abercroft asked. He made sure the cage was properly closed before he turned to face the others. Bates could see that his hands were shaking as he turned the key in the lock. 

“I must have done something to upset him. You were right; it was unwise of me to approach a caged animal,” Fiske said. 

Bates had no trouble guessing just what had upset Edward so. Judging by Fiske’s self-satisfied tone and bright smile, he had been successful in his attempt to get the blood sample. It was probably what he had hid in his pocket just a moment ago.

“You were very lucky that nothing happened, milord.”

Fiske smiled. “Now, don’t make such a big deal out of this. I’ve survived far worse and – ow!”

Bates took a surprised step back when Abercroft all of a sudden whacked Fiske on the upper arm with his case. Fury masked the old man’s face, and Bates couldn’t recall a time when he had seen him that upset. Fiske didn’t pale in comparison for he was glaring murderously at Abercroft as he tried to rub the aching spot without twisting his still bandaged hand. 

“What was that for?” he demanded in an edgy voice. 

“For being so reckless and stupid! Either you have no idea what could have happened or you just don’t care enough about your life to be careful,” Abercroft snapped. 

“There was no danger. Edward was upset, yes, but he was not going to hurt me,” Fiske threw back. From the strained expression on his face, Bates could guess that he was doing his best to keep his anger under control, but it was proving to be a difficult case. 

“Oh, shut up. People have accused me of taking unnecessary risks for all my life, but I have never been as idiotic as you. Or your father. I’m tired of seeing you walk knowingly into danger and barely escape death’s grasp with that stupid smile on your face. And then when somebody tells you to be more careful, you shrug it off and treat them like they’re insane. You should be grateful that there is even one person who cares about you enough to put up with these antics.”

Bates and Fiske stood in stunned silence for a moment after Abercroft had finished his angry outburst. Bates thanked his luck for that he was only a valet and didn’t have to respond in any way in this awkward situation. 

“I didn’t realise this was so unsettling to you,” Fiske said after a moment. He seemed genuinely surprised for once, and Bates was glad to see at least this brief occasion when his master wasn’t hiding behind a fake image in Abercroft’s company. 

“There you go again,” Abercroft said and lifted his cane a second time, but now he only pointed it at Fiske’s face. “Your luck is going to run out one day if you keep going like this. Gregory’s did.”

Fiske’s eyes darkened at the comment. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said icily. Without another glance at the old man, he marched to the door and wrenched it open. “Get here, Bates. I think I’ve had enough of the zoo for a while.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Bates whispered before he hurried after his master, but he received no reply. Abercroft was just as angry as Fiske at the moment, and the valet knew that he could do nothing to change the situation for the time being.

So much for my plan to have Abercroft keep milord some company, he thought to himself in disappointment. 

Fiske was already sitting in the car when he got there. Bates took the driver’s seat and turned to look behind his shoulder, expecting to see his master scowling in anger and glaring daggers at the front seat. 

“That didn’t go so --” he started, but that was when he realised that Fiske was grinning madly to himself and admiring something he had just produced from his pocket – a small medical vial filled with blood. 

“Look at this, Bates! This is the key!” he said and showed the vial to him, though he wouldn’t let his valet touch it. 

“You almost got hurt while acquiring it, milord,” Bates pointed out. He didn’t think it had been worth the scare they had all got, but he knew Fiske wouldn’t listen to such talk now that he was entirely consumed by his triumph. 

“That’s nonsense! I had the situation perfectly under control, regardless of what that senile idiot thinks,” Fiske said. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the vial, and he kept holding it in front of his eyes and marvelling it like it was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen in his life. 

Now, that wasn’t how one was supposed to talk about an old family friend. “Mr Abercroft was only --” Bates started, but he was again interrupted before he could finish his sentence. 

“And did you see how strong Edward was? I didn’t even know what hit me before he had pinned me to the ground. Such amazing strength,” Fiske continued happily.

“I would have been considerably more impressed if it hadn’t been directed at you, milord,” Bates pointed out. He received an annoyed glare from his master who decided that his valet would never be able to appreciate the orangutan appropriately. To Bates’s relief, Fiske changed the subject. 

“Can you imagine how easy this was? Now we have everything we need to get started,” he said. He finally put the vial back into his pocket and fell against the seat, letting out a victorious laugh. Bates could only stare in silence and wonder if his master hadn’t finally gone insane. A reaction like this was usually reserved for a magnificent archaeological discovery. 

“How are we going to give the sample to Ms Hall?” he asked. 

“I’ll mail it through a private company that isn’t too picky about the contents of packages. The vial I used is treated with chemicals that’ll keep the blood from clotting, so we’re in no hurry,” Fiske replied. 

“And Mr Abercroft?” Bates asked.

“What about him? I don’t think he suspected a thing,” Fiske said in confusion and straightened his back on the seat.

“Ah, yes, but I meant your argument, milord. I think it would be most unfortunate if you didn’t settle your disagreements.”

“Maybe, but right now I don’t have the time to think about that. Nigel has served his purpose for the time being, and I need to concentrate on the project at hand.”

“But --”

“Don’t argue with me, Bates.” Though Fiske’s voice was calm, it was firm enough to tell Bates that any further discussion regarding the matter would not be tolerated. He didn’t want to start another row with his master at the moment, so he turned away with a sigh and started the engine. 

They were driving in silence, so Bates’s thoughts were turned back to what had happened at the zoo. Fiske being irresponsible and not understanding it was nothing new to him, but Abercroft’s words had surprised him somewhat. He hadn’t realised it before, but Gregory Fiske’s death all those years ago still had to be bothering the old man more than it had first seemed. 

He could remember what the funeral had been like. There had been dozens and dozens of people, most of them faces he had never seen before, and after a while they had all turned into a meaningless mass of black suits and dresses. Bates had spent the whole day standing by Fiske’s side as he greeted everyone and thanked them for coming, but only a few members of the family and friends stood out in his mind. 

Abercroft was one of them. He had remained in the background for most of the time, but he had accompanied them when they had moved the coffin to the family mausoleum. It was there that he had finally broken down, half collapsed on the casket and mumbled something about how he should have been there and how sorry he was. Fiske and Bates had stood by and watched the scene in silence, though the valet had hoped that his master would do something to calm down their old friend. He hadn’t, and it was the last time they had seen Abercroft in years. 

Bates supposed that the old man didn’t want history to repeat itself. Fiske had all of his father’s recklessness and stubbornness, and it was highly probable that he would meet a similar fate if he didn’t get his act together. He had always been worried about that, which was why he had almost always accompanied Fiske on his travels. 

And of course something had gone wrong that one time he hadn’t. Thinking about China darkened Bates’s mood even further, but it also made him more determined. No matter what he would have to do, he would make sure he would never have to be the one sobbing by a black coffin.


	13. Chapter 13

Months flew past, and before Bates even fully realised it, he found himself standing at Middleton Airport with Fiske, having just emerged from the plane. Fiske rarely travelled to locations where he couldn’t explore ancient temples or dig into some old monkey shrine, so they'd never been in the States before.

“What sort of place is this… Middleton again, milord?” Bates had to pause to read the name from the travel brochure he had taken from the plane. First impressions made it look like fairly normal town to him, not one to attract tourists but a good place for raising a family and living a quiet life. 

“Unimportant to us,” Fiske replied in a bored tone. “We’re travelling straight away to Mount Middleton. Amy said she’ll be waiting for us at a local hotel.”

Bates could only nod at that. For the past months, he had expressed his concern for their plans and asked several times if Fiske really intended to go through with everything, but he had received nothing but angry snaps and disbelief at his behaviour for this. It was obvious that there was no doubt in Fiske’s mind, and he had eventually learnt to remain silent about the whole genetic mutation issue. 

“Milord, I wonder if her laboratory is located somewhere in that area. A hotel swarming with tourists is not something I would want too close to my secret lair.”

“Hmm. True. Amy didn’t mention the specific location. We can only hope she has enough sense in her to keep everything hidden,” Fiske said with a frown. 

Bates had noted that his master’s opinion of Amy wasn’t nearly as flattering as it had first seemed like. It was a relief to notice that even in his enthusiasm Fiske was level-headed enough to realise that there was something wrong with her, but he wasn’t sure if lying to her and buttering her up with false praise was the best way to go about this. Bates didn’t like using people, and he was afraid they might never get rid of Amy if Fiske continued this game much further.

Well, he supposed this was a hole that his master had dug for himself. He had done all he could to protest mutation and getting involved with that insane woman, so Fiske could only blame himself if something went wrong. Bates didn’t wish for that, of course, but he couldn’t help but think that being taught a lesson would do Fiske some good. 

“Find us a taxi so that we can get out of here,” Fiske said. His distaste for the people around them and the impatience to proceed were so obvious that Bates hurried to fulfil the task without another word. 

As much as the upcoming events were making him nervous, Bates enjoyed the trip through Middleton and up to the mountains. The streets were tidy, the houses looked well-kept, and most of the people they passed looked happy. There was something charming and peaceful about the place, and he could easily imagine himself living a good life there. Just looking out the car window eased his fears somewhat.

One glance at Fiske, however, told the valet that his master was feeling the exact opposite. The man had his hands crossed on his chest, and he was tapping his fingers impatiently in a steady rhythm. The scowl on his face could only be described as irritated. Bates was half-expecting him to demand the driver to go faster. 

He wondered if Fiske wasn’t at all nervous about what was going to take place. He had to realise that what they were about to do was highly risky and could go wrong in so many ways, yet he hadn’t heard Fiske mention one word about that. If the man was feeling any doubt, he was hiding it well. 

“Isn’t this a little odd time of the year to go to the ski resort?” the driver asked after they had been travelling a while in complete silence. 

Bates waited a moment if Fiske wanted to reply, but the man had no interest in talking to anyone. It was probably for the best if Bates handled the talking; Fiske could be so impolite when he was annoyed enough. 

“We’re interested in local fauna,” he explained. They had agreed to let nobody know their real identities so that there would be no questions. Fiske had insisted that nobody should know about what they were doing, at least not before he had the fourth jade monkey. 

“Oh. Well, I’m afraid you aren’t going to see much up there. We have nothing rare,” the driver said.

That was all that was said during the drive. The silence made Bates feel uncomfortable, and as soon as they got out of Middleton and started going up the mountain road, he found he could no longer relax by staring out the window. His attention was drawn to Fiske who was playing with the sleeve of his coat and staring at some fixed spot before him. Bates wanted to say something to ease the strained atmosphere, but the presence of the driver made it impossible. The valet couldn’t have been happier when they finally reached the ski resort and could step out of the car. 

As expected, Amy was there waiting for them. She rushed out of the hotel to greet them with a wide smile on her face. 

“Ooh, you’re finally here!” she said. Without stopping to take a breath, she grabbed Fiske’s hand and examined it. “Looking nice. I don’t think we’re going to have any trouble.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Fiske said and took a glance around to make sure nobody was looking at them. Fortunately the hotel was mostly empty this time of the year, and the taxi driver had already gone back to Middleton. He pulled his hand back and hid it in his pocket away from Amy’s eyes. 

“I can’t wait to show you everything that I’ve done. You’ll be just amazed to see the lab. It’s so much better than the one they have at the university,” Amy said as she took Fiske’s arm and started dragging him towards the mountains. Bates picked up their suitcases and followed in a hurry. 

“Where will we be staying?” he asked. They hadn’t made reservations because Fiske wanted to be extra careful and not have his name in the hotel book.

Amy smiled. “You can stay with me. I’ve got more than enough room, and I need to pay back for your hospitality,” she said. “Besides, it’s probably for the best that you stay hidden after the procedure. It might take a while to get used to the changes.”

“Maybe we should refrain from discussing that until we’re alone?” Fiske suggested with a modest cough.

“Oh, right. How silly of me. I’m so used to talking to Phil and George that I forgot not everybody is supposed to know about this,” Amy said. Her words made Fiske freeze with surprise, and Amy turned to look at him in confusion.

“Monty, what’s wrong?” she asked. 

“Who exactly are Phil and George? I thought a single word about this wasn’t supposed to get past the three of us!” Fiske snarled, making Amy let go of his arm and take a startled step away from him. 

“They’re the help I got to build the lab, dear. Did you think I could do it all alone? But don’t worry about them; they will never tell a soul what is going on. They don’t even know the exact nature of your business here, and we don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to,” she explained quickly, an almost desperate look crossing her face when Fiske kept staring at her with furious eyes. 

“We can’t trust outsiders. Who knows what they will do once you no longer need them? They must be dealt with somehow,” Fiske said, calming down somewhat but still glaring down at Amy. Bates was used to that sort of treatment, but the small woman was experiencing Fiske’s rage for the first time. The valet supposed it had to come as a shock to her after the charming compliments she had received before. 

“They’re in on this just as much as we are. You shouldn’t talk about them like you’re planning to kill them,” Amy said with new determination in her voice. She placed her hands on her hips and looked at Fiske with a small pout on her face, almost as if challenging him to argue. 

“We shall see about that,” Fiske only said. Bates knew that if they didn’t need Amy, Fiske would have never put up with that kind of attitude. 

He cleared his throat to ease the tension a little. “So, where exactly did you build your laboratory, madam?”

Talking about genetics brightened Amy’s mood somewhat, and she shot a grateful smile at Bates, ignoring Fiske for the time being. She pointed behind her back to the mountains. 

“Some distance over there. I have a small patch of land beyond the forest,” she said. 

“I trust nobody knows about it,” Fiske said. 

“It’s very well hidden,” Amy said. She glanced at Fiske from the corner of her eye and didn’t take his arm again when she started leading them towards the mountain path. Bates was appalled by that they had to walk, but Fiske and Amy agreed that it was for the best if nobody knew where they were going. Getting vehicles would no doubt have raised questions about their intentions. 

Well, he supposed this was nothing new. He had accompanied Fiske through deserts and jungles, so one forest in the mountains couldn’t be that bad. Then again, never before had he had to carry several suitcases at the same time. Neither of his companions looked like they would help him, probably too excited to even remember his presence. His poor back was going to kill him in the evening.

Of the three of them, only Fiske was in a good shape. Every now and then, he had to stop to wait for Bates and Amy who felt like they were swimming in their own sweat and that their lungs couldn’t get enough air. Bates felt seriously tempted to just throw the suitcases away and collapse against a tree.

“I really should have created some cute cuddly monster that could carry us,” Amy mused as she wiped her sleeve against her forehead. 

“How much farther do we still have to go, madam?” Bates asked. 

“A few miles over there,” Amy replied. 

Fiske was looking at them with his hands in his pockets and with a small smug smile on his face. His hair was a bit more ruffled than usual, but other than that he looked like their hike was nothing but a pleasant stroll in the sun for him. He had enough manners not to hit them with a snide remark about how exercise would do them good, but Bates knew he had to have several such comments running around in his head. 

“Do you want me to carry the suitcases, Bates?” Fiske asked. 

“Absolutely not, milord,” Bates said. 

“You could carry me,” Amy suggested. 

“Oh, I would, but it would be horribly inappropriate to touch a lady in such a way,” Fiske said, but the short glance he shot at Bates told the valet that Fiske didn’t think even he was in a shape good enough to do that. Maybe it was because Bates himself was feeling so exhausted, but he realised he was very annoyed by Fiske’s attitude all of a sudden. Yes, maybe he and Amy were terribly out of shape, but they didn’t need to be treated in such a condescending way. 

“I wouldn’t mind,” Amy said, but she was too tired to get a real smile on her face.

They rested for one more moment before they continued on their way. It took them a little over an hour to reach the entrance to Amy’s laboratory, much to Bates and Amy’s relief (they were almost crawling by now) and Fiske’s annoyance (he would have liked to get there much earlier). 

Bates could see two male figures standing by the entrance. He supposed they had to be Phil and George, so at first he didn’t think twice about it. When they got closer, however, he noticed something peculiar about them.

“Milord, do you see what I see?”

“If you’re referring to the anthropomorphic pig and bird creatures, yes I do,” Fiske replied.

He wasn’t dreaming, then. That much was a relief to Bates, but it also meant he would soon have to deal with two such things that he had never thought he would encounter in his life. Though he wanted, he couldn’t tear his eyes from the two men – if they could be called that. They looked much more like animals.

“Is everything in order here?” Amy asked her two assistants. 

The bird, which Bates thought looked like a chicken but it couldn’t be because it had a male figure, clucked in affirmation. 

Amy turned around to introduce them to each other. “This is George,” she said and pointed at the pig. The bird was revealed to be Phil. Both creatures lifted their hands in greeting, and Bates guessed they couldn’t speak any human language. 

“These are the two guests I was talking about, Lord Monty Fiske and his valet, Bates,” Amy said. 

Bates and Fiske glanced at each other and kept their distance from the animals. They seemed friendly enough and obviously had human intelligence, but Bates couldn’t bring himself to trust two such freaks of nature. 

“I must admit I wasn’t expecting this,” Fiske pointed out. 

“You shouldn’t be surprised. I did tell you that I would experiment with the effect animal DNA can have on humans,” Amy asked. “Didn’t I?”

If possible, Bates’s eyes widened even further when he looked at the two creatures. “You mean… they are… were humans?” he asked. How could she ever commit such atrocities? He felt bile rise in his throat when he looked at the men and tried to imagine what it must have been like for them, forced into being helpless subjects of Amy’s perverted obsession. 

“Yeah,” Amy said. She looked from Fiske to Bates with a confused frown on her face. “Why do you both look like that? What’s wrong?”

“How could you do that to them? Do you feel no compassion?” Bates asked, entirely forgetting etiquette. He couldn’t bear to look at Phil and George anymore; his heart was too filled with pity. 

“I’m more interested in what are the odds of this happening to me,” Fiske remarked. He, on the other hand, was eyeing the two mutated men with great interest and fascination. 

“Oh, no, no! You got it all wrong! I didn’t force them into anything! They’re volunteers,” Amy hurried quickly, and George confirmed this with a snort. 

“Volunteers, madam?” Bates repeated. He couldn’t comprehend how anyone would want to be subjected to this. These two men would never be able to show their faces in public, and they probably would never be able to speak again either. Who could want such a life for themselves?

“Why did they --?” he asked, but he was interrupted by an annoyed comment from Fiske.

“We don’t need to know that,” he snapped. “All that is relevant is whether this will happen to me.”

Bates wanted to know the same thing. If this was what could happen if something went wrong, it would be most advisable to forget all about the genetic mutation and go straight back home. Nothing was worth this risk. He could only hope that the shock of seeing these two men would make Fiske realise that as well.

Amy looked from Fiske to her two assistants before shaking her head and smiling reassuringly. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Monty. What I did to them was different. There will be no complications with your procedure. And if there are, we can always reverse it,” she said. 

“I didn’t think it would be that simple of a matter,” Fiske said in doubt. Bates, who knew even less about genetics, couldn’t really believe it either. It wasn’t like one could just create a mutating machine with a reverse button.

Amy chuckled and winked at the two of them. “You underestimate me. Once you see my lab, you’ll understand!” She opened the entrance to the lair and led them inside. The bare interior and pale walls reminded Bates of a factory hall, or maybe an extremely dull medical ward. He liked neither impression, and he couldn’t really imagine why someone like Amy had built herself such a place. Maybe it was an evil scientist thing. 

Phil and George took a turn to right and left the three of them alone. Bates was glad; the presence of the two men quite unnerved him. 

After a bit of walking, they finally arrived at the centre of the complex, Amy’s laboratory.

“Ta-daa!” she exclaimed and pointed both her hands triumphantly at her toys. Wires came down from the ceiling and entered the walls and bizarre machines that were nothing like Bates had ever seen before, tanks of different shapes were filled with bubbling liquid, and blinking lights and oddly shaped buttons covered every surface. On the far side of the laboratory, there was a tall shelf that was filled with a colourful collection of Cuddle Buddies that would have made a zoologist weep. 

“My…” Bates whispered as he looked at it all. He hadn’t thought they would be facing something like this. It was far bigger and more complicated than he had ever imagined. 

“Quite impressive,” Fiske said in a suitably interested tone. He had never been one to be fascinated by science. This occasion wasn’t an exception, but Amy didn’t notice his lack of enthusiasm. 

“Isn’t it? I planned everything myself!” she squealed. “Over here I have my neon-synchronic gene splicer and…”

Bates quickly lost track of her scientific babble and didn’t even try to look like he understood what she was talking about. It wasn’t his job to know this, and it didn’t look like Amy had eyes for anything but her precious laboratory at the moment. She probably wouldn’t notice even if a bomb went off next to her. 

“Milord,” Bates whispered as he turned to Fiske, “exactly how much was it to pay for this?” He hadn’t been expecting anything of this scale when Fiske and Amy had told him of their agreement. He didn’t need to be an expert to realise that this sort of equipment wasn’t cheap. Before this, his mind had been filled with so many other fears that he hadn’t even thought about worrying about Lord Fiske’s financial affairs, but now there was a new item on his ever-growing list of problems.

“Considerably much, but as you can see, it was all worth it,” Fiske replied. He wasn’t listening to Amy’s explanations either. He wasn’t even keeping an eye on her as she rushed from one spot to another. 

“I wonder if you weren’t a tad too generous, milord. Ms Hall’s services cannot amount to such a sum,” Bates said. 

“What good is a family fortune if you don’t do something with it? This was a far better option than letting my relatives tear each other apart over it when the time comes,” Fiske snapped.

Bates waited a moment to see if the scowl on his master’s face would loosen and reveal a joke, but that didn’t happen. He swallowed a bit.

“You don’t mean the entire family fortune, of course, milord?” he asked with care. 

“I put aside enough money for you to get paid, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Fiske said. He turned his attention entirely to Amy. Bates frowned a little; he hated it when Fiske chose to end a discussion before they had reached any significant point. 

“That’s not what I’m worried about, milord. What about you? Maintaining the castle is not free, and what will happen to your expeditions? Now that you aren’t working with the museum --” 

“My, Amy! That was mighty interesting!” Fiske exclaimed heartily and marched over to her. She was beaming with prime and joy and took the man’s arm as she pointed for the final thing she had to show, the shelf of Cuddle Buddies. 

“Look, I put the one you gave me on a special spot!”

“Which one was that again?” Fiske muttered under his breath. 

“You silly thing, stop toying with me! It’s this one right here. I’ll treasure it forever!” Amy said and picked up the Pandaroo. She shoved it into Fiske’s hands and didn’t even notice how displeased he was at having to hold the thing. 

“When can we get started?” he asked and put the toy back on the shelf.

“Why such a hurry? We have all the time in the world, and it’s my turn to be a host to you. We had such a good time at your castle,” Amy said with a hopeful smile. Maybe she was more interested in Fiske’s company than playing with DNA.

Fiske glanced at Bates with shifty eyes as Amy held his arm, but he smiled at her. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can concentrate on more important matters.”

“Oh, you have a point!” Amy said as faint blush crept on her face. If he had had any doubts about it before, it was now clear to Bates that Fiske had her entirely wrapped around his little finger. Anything he asked for, she would gladly provide it. Too bad Fiske didn’t seem to realise that she would eventually come to ask for something in return. He had never been that good with women. Bates felt like shaking his head. 

Amy walked over to one of her machines and pressed a few buttons to make it hum with sudden life. There was finally a hint of fascination on Fiske’s face as he watched her work. 

“When can we start?” he asked again. 

“There are a few more things I have to take care of, but --”

“When?”

“This evening if we’re lucky. Oh, don’t look so agitated, Monty.” She winked at him. “It’ll be over soon if that’s what you want.”

***

Those few hours that remained before everything would get started felt the longest in Bates’s life. He tried to busy himself with preparing the room Amy had shown them, but he found he didn’t really know what to do. He had no idea in what sort of condition Fiske would be like after the procedure. Would it be like after surgery? Would he be conscious? Nobody had seen it important to fill him in on such details. He slammed a pillow on the bed in annoyance.

It was still quite unbelievable that they were actually going through with this. Science of this sort was alien to him and if he had read about it from a newspaper, he would have had trouble trusting it. This was like bizarre science fiction and not part of Lord Fiske’s life.

He supposed that all he could do at this point was to stand back and let things happen. He had certainly tried to put a stop to the mess, and it wasn’t his fault that nobody had listened to him. Nothing good would come out of what they were doing, but Bates knew that Fiske was the kind of person who had to learn his lessons the hard way. The valet could only hope that his master wouldn’t regret the procedure later on in his life. Even if it could be reversed like Amy had said, he had still wasted almost everything he had on it.

Bates finished preparing the room much sooner than he had planned. In this unfamiliar setting he had no chance to walk between rooms and halls or stop to think when he was reminded of something by some old item. Thinking was exactly what he didn’t want to do at the moment; dealing with the uncomfortable knot in his stomach was already hard enough without picturing the procedure in his mind.

Though he knew they wouldn’t start just yet, he felt compelled to return to the laboratory to see how Fiske and Amy were doing. He had tried to suggest that his master could accompany him so that they could talk alone one last time before the procedure, but Fiske hadn’t listened at all. He was too anxious now that everything was going to happen soon, and there was no room for any other thoughts in his head. 

He saw Amy making some more adjustments to her machine while Fiske watched over her shoulder. Neither noticed his arrival, not even after he coughed modestly. 

“And that’s about it,” Amy said once she was done. She greeted Bates with a smile when she turned around and spotted him. “Oh, hello!”

Fiske didn’t acknowledge his valet’s presence. He nodded at the machine that Amy had been working with.

“Is this truly all we need? I was expecting something a tad more delicate,” he said. 

“Well, mostly. I’ve already downloaded the orangutan DNA into the database, and I just finished programming the machine so that it’ll only work on your hands and feet. I’ve mainly used it for creating complete hybrids, so we’ll have to see how that goes,” Amy explained. 

“And?” Fiske pressed, having caught a hint of uncertainty in her voice. 

Amy frowned and scratched her chin. “I don’t think there’s going to be any trouble with your hands because the basic structure is so similar to what orangutans have, but I’m a little worried about your feet. I mean, the bones are a bit different because the big toe is in a different place. I’m not sure if my machine can fix that. I’m still test-driving it,” she said. 

“And it’s only now that you see it fit to tell me about this?” Fiske snarled. Within a split second, he had turned from a collected gentleman to an enraged madman who was looming over Amy’s short form with pure fury in his eyes. Bates didn’t blame her one bit when she retreated in sudden fright. 

“Don’t worry, Monty!” she said in a shaky voice. “I know what to do!”

“Well?”

“If you let me, we could fix it with surgery. The chances of my machine working are much better if we’ve already altered the bone structure a little,” Amy said quickly to calm him down. 

“But you are not a surgeon, are you, madam?” Bates asked before Fiske could say anything. It was one thing to let an insane but talented geneticist tamper with his master, but there was no way he was going to watch someone with no experience or education use a scalpel on him. 

“Stay out of this, Bates!” Fiske snapped at him.

Amy looked from one man to another with a saddened frown on her face. “Don’t fight!” she pleaded. “Everything can be fixed! George is a surgeon, so we could ask him to help.”

“I don’t really like the idea of letting anyone else know about this,” Fiske said. He pursed his lips and rubbed his chin in thought for a while, staring at the floor as he considered all his options. After a while, he reached a conclusion that disappointed Bates and made Amy happy. 

“I suppose I do not have much of a choice,” Fiske admitted with a reluctant sigh. “And he is also too deep in this to reveal my secret.”

“Great! Now everything is in order again!” Amy squealed and ran to a small radio to call George to join them. 

“Milord, are you sure this is a good idea? If something goes wrong, you might not be able to walk again,” Bates pointed out. Amy had said her machine had a reverse button, but there wasn’t much you could do about failed surgery.

There was a grim but determined look in Fiske’s eyes. “I know, but I will not turn back now.”

“But is it truly worth the risk, milord? Your hand is healed and you’re in perfect condition. You may not really need any of this,” Bates pressed.

“Of course it is worth the risk! And this is not merely about agility or strength anymore,” Fiske hissed at him so that Amy wouldn’t notice. 

Bates blinked. What else could this be about, then? There was no other possible reason for Fiske to want monkey hands and feet, unless it was such an illogical reason that nobody else would think of it. He hated to admit it, but that was probably the case.

“Milord?” he asked in worry. 

“We will talk more about this when we return home. There is no time now, and I have not yet determined if I can trust you with everything.” 

“If I have ever betrayed your trust, milord…” Bates started but winced when he remembered the diary. Even if it had been justified, it had still been a dishonourable act. And while his outburst when he had first heard of the mutation had been entirely reasonable, Fiske probably saw it as an act of doubt and rebellion. 

“We shall see.”

The door opened and George entered the room without his bird companion. He, Amy and Fiske gathered together to discuss the procedure and what they could and couldn’t do to make it go smoothly. George had to draw his ideas on paper because he couldn’t speak, so Bates got a very limited picture from the whole thing. 

“So, you’re going to cut the bone here, attach it here and still have it function normally? That shouldn’t be possible,” Fiske pointed out and pointed to several places on George’s drawing. 

“It’s not medically possible, but that’s where my machine comes in. If my theory is right, the orangutan DNA should kick in and make the foot heal without any complications,” Amy said. 

“And if you’re incorrect?” Fiske asked. 

Amy shrugged. “I don’t really know. I haven’t tried to combine genetics with surgery before. What do you think, George? Should we do it?”

“May I just point out that the conditions are hardly sufficient for such a procedure? There is no operation room here,” Bates said. 

The other three stopped their conversation and turned to look at him. Their silent stares made Bates shift uncomfortably and wonder if he should have kept his mouth shut after all. But it was a point to consider, and he couldn’t believe it that he was the only one to notice.

Fiske slit his eyes in obvious distaste. “Really, Bates. Do keep to yourself if you have nothing of worth to contribute.”

“I only wanted to--” Bates started, but the others turned back to their papers. He waited for a moment to see if there was any reason for him to say, but he was being ignored so thoroughly that he didn’t think they would even notice that he was gone. He knew he shouldn’t have abandoned Fiske among these people, but as the man had said, he had nothing to add and no way to help. Most of all, he didn’t want to be there to witness any part of the procedure. It would have been too gory for him. 

He slipped outside unnoticed and took a seat by the door. He wouldn’t bother anyone there, but he was close enough to run to Fiske’s aid in case the man needed him. Bates almost hoped he would because then they could have left all of this behind and start making their life normal again. Fiske hadn’t really needed him for much of anything lately. It was making the valet feel lonely.

Time went by. Bates took a look at his pocket watch and was startled to realise that almost an hour had passed. A sudden and irrational sense of panic threatened to crush his chest, and he had trouble swallowing. They had to have started the procedure by now.

They could have informed me, he thought as he glanced at the closed door. At the very least, they could have let him know how long it would take. Now he had no way of knowing if it was taking too long and if there was trouble, which meant that every passing minute was making him twice as worried. He didn’t dare just open the door and take a look; even if there was a problem, he couldn’t do anything to help and there was the chance that his sudden appearance might make something go wrong. 

He sighed as he forced himself to put his watch back into his pocket. The dread inside him reminded him of the time when his wife had become ill. He had felt just as terrified and unable to help back then. He could only hope that things would go better this time. 

The approaching sound of faint clicks made him raise his eyes from the floor. Bates thought it had to be Phil coming to run some errand, so his eyes widened in surprise when he realised that it was actually a small dog. Not just any dog, either. It was that horrid crab hybrid Amy had told them about, Lucy. 

“Woof, woof!” Lucy barked happily and approached him with her tongue dangling out. Bates felt his skin crawl at the sight of the limbs attached to the dog’s body, but he resisted the urge to stand up and run away. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked. He wasn’t really one to talk to animals because they couldn’t understand or reply, but it felt like the right thing to do at the moment. 

Lucy only wagged her tail at him and sat down beside him. Bates got the feeling that what the dog really wanted was to jump into his arms, but she couldn’t do it with her new limbs. 

“You poor thing. What has she done to you?” he wondered. After a moment of hesitation, he leaned to pick her up. Lucy immediately took into licking his hands like they were covered in meaty sauce or whatever dogs found delicious. 

Bates looked at the dog as he absent-mindedly scratched her from behind the ears. If Amy could do this, maybe she knew what she was doing with Fiske, too. Lucy certainly seemed happy enough; she had no pains and acted like any normal dog would. It was only the abnormality that bothered him, but maybe that was the problem. He was the only one troubled by any of this; everyone else was content and eager to keep going. Perhaps it was for the best to save his judgement until he could see the results of Lord Fiske’s procedure with his own eyes.


	14. Chapter 14

For the next few hours, Bates sat on guard outside Amy’s laboratory and tried to calm his nerves. It felt like time had slowed down to torment him, and the longer he sat there, the more convinced he was that something had gone wrong. He strained his ears to hear what was going on inside, but the door was soundproof. 

Lucy had fallen asleep in his arms. The presence of a living being that actually liked him was somewhat comforting, so he didn’t mind it that his legs were getting numb. He let his hand rest on her back while he kept his eyes locked to the door in hopes that it might open any second now.

He had thought much about what he would do if something went wrong and Fiske ended up crippled for the rest of his life. Bates couldn’t imagine a more horrid fate for the man. Being bound to a wheelchair or simply having to rely on a cane would kill Fiske in the long run. This was why he had been so worried about the whole procedure, but somehow nobody had got his point. He wondered if Fiske was even aware of the risk, or whether he was merely too stubborn to acknowledge it. 

He supposed he should have given an equal amount of thought to what would happen if the procedure was a complete success, but he found it impossible to consider that. His old-fashioned side refused to believe that this might work as they had planned. Even if it did, would it really change their lives that much? Fiske would still be the same man, only with a new secret he couldn’t share with anyone. 

Though he had been waiting for it the whole time, he was actually startled when the door opened and Amy stepped outside. Bates jumped to his feet, forgetting all about the dog in his arms.

“Lucy!” Amy exclaimed and ran to the dog that was trying to get up on her crab limbs. “Are you alright?” She picked her up and gave her a kiss on the nose. The dog replied by burying her with enthusiastic licking. 

“Madam! How is Lord Fiske doing?” Bates hurried to ask. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears. Surely Amy wouldn’t be smiling like that if something had gone wrong.

“He’s just fine. We had to use anaesthesia because of the surgery, so he’s sleeping.”

Bates’s knees felt weak when relief washed over him, but at the same time he was too overjoyed to be able to sit down even for a second. All his fears seemed childish to him now, and he wanted to shake Amy’s hand for having taken good care of his master. 

“May I see him?” he asked. 

“Sure. There’s nothing to be worried about, so we can move him into your room if you want. I think it’s a more pleasant place to wake up at.”

“I would appreciate that, madam,” Bates said. He followed Amy into the laboratory, anxious to see how Fiske was doing and what had been done to him. They passed George on their way. Amy told her assistant to take the rest of the day off, but Bates barely registered that. 

Lord Fiske was lying on a simple operation table. There was a thick pink pillow under his head and somebody, most likely Amy, had covered him in a blanket. To Bates’s disappointment, he couldn’t see the man’s hands or feet because of this. He wanted to, but he didn’t quite have the nerve to lift the blanket to steal a look. 

He searched Fiske’s face for signs of pain or stress, but the man was looking calm and relaxed for the first time in months. His breathing was even and deep. Despite the circumstances, Bates felt relieved that Fiske was finally being still for just one moment. This sleep was artificial and wouldn’t do him much good, but it was a relief to see the man look like himself again, not always angry and frustrated about something. 

“Doesn’t he look cute like this? I think he must have been really stressed out lately, but he’s so relaxed now,” Amy said as she came to Bates’s site. She leant closer to ruffle Fiske’s hair, making Bates frown at her. Nobody should touch Fiske when the man was in no condition to react to it. 

“How did the procedure go?” he asked. 

“It was a complete success! There were no problems at all, and the surgery and the genetic work went together surprisingly well. He’ll be back on his feet in no time,” Amy said, her eyes wide with enthusiasm. She looked expectantly at Bates, but he couldn’t bring himself to share those feelings, not yet when he didn’t have complete certainty over Fiske’s wellbeing. 

“Was it painful?” he wanted to know. He couldn’t imagine that being genetically experimented on could be anything but agonizing. 

Amy pursed her lips in irritation. “Painful?” she repeated. “I built my machine so that I could create cute and cuddly friends for myself! Why do you think I would ever let it be painful?” 

Well, at least that was a relief to hear. “My apologies, madam. I spoke without thinking,” Bates hurried to say. 

“It’s alright. It would probably look painful to an outsider,” Amy said. She turned to look at Fiske with a happy smile brightening her face. “Let’s take him to your room before he wakes up.”

“And when will that be?”

“In a few hours, I think. He insisted on using light anaesthesia so that he could wake up and see the results as soon as possible. Silly thing, like he’s going to notice the time go by when he’s asleep.” Amy shook her head to herself in amusement.

They moved Fiske to the room Bates had prepared. The valet finally caught a glimpse of the man’s new hands, and to his surprise he realised that it wasn’t that bad. They were still human-like in appearance, and the only noticeable difference was that the fingers were longer and looked more flexible. He had been expecting something more drastic. 

“What’s the purpose of the hair, madam?” he asked and pointed at the black hair that now covered the backs of Fiske’s palms. 

“That’s my surprise for him! I thought it would be really cute and fluffy, so I added it there on a whim. His feet are like that, too. Do you think he’ll like it?” Amy asked. 

“Um… I’m sure he’ll be thrilled,” Bates muttered. If it wasn’t for the hair, Fiske would have probably been able to hide his new hands relatively well. It was a given that he wouldn’t be happy about this additional difficulty. Maybe Fiske would have to take into shaving it.

“I knew it,” Amy squealed in excitement. She had brought the pink pillow and blanket with her from the laboratory, and she tucked Fiske in as soon as they were in the right room. Bates watched this with an annoyed frown on his face. He didn’t have the heart to tell her to leave Fiske alone and let him take care of him, but he didn’t have to be happy about her fussing. 

“I think milord would prefer it if you weren’t here when he wakes up, madam,” he dared to say when Amy was just about done. 

She turned to look at him with visible disappointment masking her face. “What? Why?”

“He’ll most likely be groggy and annoyed, and he probably wouldn’t want you to see him like that,” Bates explained. He felt a little bad for tricking her, but he really wanted to be alone with Fiske and talk to him without Amy stealing all the attention. 

Amy giggled. “Oh, you have a point. You men and your silly pride! Sure, I’ll leave you alone. Come and get me later so that I can go over the procedure with him and give him some instructions, okay?” 

“I will, madam,” Bates promised. He let out a sight of relief when Amy skipped out of the room and closed he door behind her. Now that her bubbly presence was gone, Bates felt like he could breathe more freely again.

He picked up a book from the table and sat down by Fiske’s bed. Looking at the man’s sleeping form and being glad about that he was alright was entertaining for a moment, but eventually he decided to start reading. Or at least he tried to. He kept lifting his eyes every now and then to look for signs of Fiske waking up. He was anxious to speak to the man and find out if everything really was as well as Amy was claiming.

It can’t have been that bad, he thought as he looked at the genetically altered hand that was peeking from under the blanket. Maybe Fiske had been right after all. If he would never again be injured on expeditions because of this procedure, it might have been worth the price. He was still wary about the feet because more work had gone into them, but the hands were really looking alright. 

A little over two hours had passed when Bates saw Fiske shift slightly. The valet jumped to his feet and put the book away.

“Milord? Are you awake?” he asked. 

Fiske blinked a couple of times and grimaced, like he was trying to put his confused thoughts into order and failing miserably. He attempted to sit up, but the anaesthesia was still too strong in his system and he had to give up.

“What… How did it go?” he slurred.

“Maybe you should sleep some more, milord,” Bates suggested. 

“No, no. I want to see,” Fiske insisted. He brought his hands in front of his face and turned them around again and again. Bates wasn’t sure if the man’s tired brain registered anything he was seeing, but at least there was a happy smile on his face. 

“They’re amazing,” Fiske said. Satisfied with the outcome for the time being, he let himself fall back to sleep. Something about how glad his master was made Bates think of Christmas. For a moment he felt tempted to smile, but the subject was still too morbid for him to do that.

***

When Fiske woke up the next time, he was already in a much better condition. He threw the blanket off him and brought his right foot in front of his eyes to examine it. The long toes made Bates shudder, but Fiske’s eyes were filled with awe. 

“They’re better than I expected!” he declared. He closed and opened his foot to test it. It looked like he suddenly had four hands. Bates hoped walking on these new feet wouldn’t turn out to be a problem. 

He let out a surprised yelp when Fiske reached out his foot and grabbed the book he was holding. He opened it in his lap with an enthusiastic grin on his face and started flipping through the pages, very much like he was using his hands. Bates couldn’t recall when Fiske had been this giddy the last time; he was like a child trying out his new toy. 

“I hope you didn’t lose my page, milord. I was coming to an interesting point,” he said. 

“Don’t be so sour. Can’t you see how brilliant these are?” Fiske asked. He closed the book and tried to throw it from one foot to another like a juggler, but his toes slipped and the book barely missed hitting Bates on the head.

“Hmm. Needs practice,” Fiske muttered and frowned in disappointment at his clumsiness. 

“How are you feeling, milord?” Bates asked as he picked up the book and put it safely away from Fiske’s reach. 

“I’m fine. My head is still spinning a little and my feet are sore, but that’s a small price for what I got,” Fiske replied. 

“Maybe you should refrain from further tricks, then. It might be better to give your feet time to heal properly,” Bates suggested. 

“No, I think I must do the opposite. I must stretch them and get used to them as soon as possible. Has Amy said anything about that?”

“No, she didn’t mention anything, milord.”

Fiske brought his hands back up and stared at the backs of his palms in mild confusion. “I do wonder about the hair. We didn’t talk about this at all.”

“Ms Hall said that it was a side effect of the orangutan DNA and there was nothing she could have done about it without risking losing some of the qualities we needed,” Bates explained quickly. 

“Oh, I suppose that’s alright. I can always wear gloves and shoes.”

Fiske threw his legs over the side of the bed and put his feet on the floor, eager to see how well walking would go. He winced when he put a little weigh on his feet and then had to lean back against the bed before he could even let go of it. He cursed under his breath and turned to examine his feet in annoyance. 

“What’s wrong with them?” he growled.

“Maybe you should let them heal after all, milord,” Bates said. “You had surgery performed on them.”

“I cannot wait! There is so much for me to do before everything is ready, and I cannot waste time lying in bed!” Fiske snapped. It was amazing how quickly he forgot his earlier happiness and reverted back to angry snaps when thing didn’t go his way. He glared at his new feet like they were the most horrible thing he had ever seen and he had only now realised it. 

“Maybe I should call Ms Hall here, milord? She might be able to tell you what you need to know,” Bates suggested quickly. 

“Yes, do that,” Fiske said, not lifting his eyes from his feet. He started running his finger up and down the skin of his left foot to see if he could find a scar somewhere. Bates only shook his head at the man’s impatience and exited the room, glad that for once he wouldn’t be the victim of Fiske’s ire. He almost felt sorry for Amy. 

He found her back in the laboratory where she was explaining something to Phil. The creature was taking notes and nodding in regular rhythm, but he stopped doing this when he noticed Bates arrive. Amy turned around at this and smiled. 

“Is he awake?” she asked at once. 

“Yes, I have come to inform you of that, madam,” Bates replied. 

Amy clasped her hands together and squealed. “Great! So, what does he think? No wait, I want to hear it from him myself!” Without another word, she rushed past Bates and out of the room before he had the time to add anything else. The valet stood there for a brief moment, but he quickly grew wary of the look Phil was giving him, so he hurried after the woman. 

“So, Monty, what do you think? Are you happy?” Amy was asking when Bates stepped into the room.

“The hands are what I was expecting, but there is something wrong with these!” Fiske snapped. To demonstrate, he lifted his feet in the air so that Amy could take a better look.

She frowned in confusion. “I don’t see anything. What are you talking about?”

“I can’t walk!” Fiske yelled. Both Bates and Amy winced at his angry and disappointed tone, but the woman recovered quickly. 

“But, Monty…” she cooed and took his hand, “of course you can’t walk yet. You have brand new feet and it takes practice before you get used to them.”

Fiske’s scowl softened somewhat, though he still wore an unhappy expression. Bates supposed that the man had really thought something had gone wrong, so Amy’s words were a relief to him. It wasn’t a welcome truth, but things could have been worse.

“I don’t have time for that. There are plans that I must set into motion,” Fiske said. 

“Don’t worry, Monty-pie! I’ll help you through this,” Amy promised. 

It was now that Fiske realised Amy was still holding his hand with an expression of pure worship on her face. He quickly yanked his hand back and glanced uncomfortably at Bates.

The valet could only shrug as a response. It wasn’t like he could just rush to the rescue and tear Amy away from Fiske. They were her guests, after all. 

“What manner of practice do you mean?” Fiske asked. He backed as much away from Amy as the bed allowed, but she didn’t notice his discomfort at all. 

“Regular exercise. Most people have no idea how many muscles there are in our feet and ankles. Yours have a lot to get used to after the procedure, so of course they hurt a little,” Amy explained. 

Fiske’s face brightened. “That’s something I can do at home.”

“But don’t you want my help? I have so much planned! We could have such a great time together!” Amy’s lips were pursed in disappointment, but Bates thought he could also see a determined gleam in her eyes. It wasn’t that different from what Fiske looked like when he talked about the jade statues. 

“We can talk about that later, can’t we? I’m getting a headache,” Fiske said and brought up his hands to rub his temples. 

Amy melted instantly. “You poor thing! You must still be tired from the anaesthesia. Go back to sleep.” 

Bates felt a sense of relief when Amy left the room after making sure Fiske didn’t want anything to eat.

“Finally. I thought she would never shut up,” Fiske muttered. He made no move to go back to sleep, so Bates guessed he had only lied to Amy about that. 

“What are we going to do now, milord? Will we be staying here?” he asked. 

Fiske grimaced in disgust and sighed. “I really don’t want to, but I’m reluctant to leave before I can walk. I can’t risk someone finding out my secret,” he said. He tapped his chin in deep thought for a moment before making his decision. 

“We can stay for at least a few days and hear Amy’s advice. After everything I have gone through so far, it can’t be that bad to tolerate her for a while,” he said. 

“I hope you’re right, milord,” Bates said. He would have been all too happy to return home right away, but he supposed Fiske had a point. The man couldn’t make the trip down the mountain in that condition and somebody would start asking questions if he returned to England in a wheelchair. 

“When have I ever been wrong?” Fiske asked. 

Bates could have pointed out several separate occasions, but he knew this was a question that wasn’t expected to be answered. He waited a moment to see if Fiske had something more to say to him, but the man had returned to examining his feet. Bates picked up his book, noting with a small amount of dissatisfaction that Fiske’s earlier stunt had almost ripped off some of the pages.

***

Bates was expecting the next few days to be filled with stress and worries for him, but it turned out that he was almost in for a vacation. Amy dragged Fiske out of bed as soon as the day dawned and took him outside where she could instruct him on proper exercises for his feet. Bates knew he was useless in that regard, and Amy made it obvious that she preferred being alone with Fiske, so the valet kept his distance to the duo and only observed them from farther away. He knew Fiske would scold him for that later, but he couldn’t think of a way to save the man from Amy.

He tried to keep his eyes glued to his book and look like he wasn’t paying attention, but he would have had to be deaf not to hear the argument that was currently going on. Every once in a while he had to steal a peek over the pages and make sure nobody was getting physically hurt. 

“I told you you can’t walk yet, sweetie!” Amy was saying with a desperate tone in her voice and her arms up in the air. She had been saying that same thing again and again for the past half an hour, but so far Fiske hadn’t listened to her advice.

“And I told you that I have no time to waste for foolishness!” Fiske snapped from the ground where was sitting after his feet had given in under him for the fifth time since they had started. 

Amy had, quite wisely in Bates’s opinion, suggested that they would start slowly and first stretch and strengthen the muscles in Fiske’s feet so that the pain would go away and he could he could eventually start standing. Fiske had instantly dismissed the idea and said that since he was already able to grab things with his toes, there was no need for any extra training. He wanted to walk straight away. 

“But you can’t skip this part,” Amy tried to reason, but Bates already knew she wouldn’t get through to Fiske. The man had been the same way when his father had started teaching him Tai Shing Pek Kwar all those years ago. He had instantly wanted to learn the most offensive moves without bothering with the basics first, and it had taken quite a lot of effort from his father to change his mind. Amy simply didn’t have such strength of character.

“This is not a case of learning anything new. I know how to walk,” Fiske growled and slapped her hand away when she offered to help him stand up. 

“Your feet don’t. Remember, we had to cut bones and set them again,” Amy said. She watched how Fiske tried to get up and had to lean against a tree to stop himself from falling for the sixth time. She was instantly by his side, ignoring his attempts to push her away.

“I know it must be hard, but I’ll help you do it,” she cooed. 

Bates had to shake his head at that. He suspected that the exercises would never develop in any way as long as Amy insisted on bugging Fiske. Considering the man’s stubbornness and how much discipline he actually had, Bates knew that Fiske would have no trouble getting used to his new feet. The problem was that Amy was so smothering that she kept distracting him and stopped him from improving at all.

“I’m not a child, Amy! Or one of your pets!” Fiske snapped in irritation. 

Amy huffed. “I don’t see why you’re getting so worked up about this. I’m only trying to help you, honey bunny,” she said, and Bates was suddenly glad that he wasn’t currently with them. Even with years of practice, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to keep a straight face at that nickname. 

He had noticed that Amy’s names for Lord Fiske had become steadily more and more intimate, and he had a bad feeling about where this was leading. There was no way Fiske couldn’t have realised that as well, and Bates could only hope that his master had a good plan for dealing with this alarming problem.

“Please don’t call me that. I’m not particularly fond of cutesy nicknames,” Fiske growled through his teeth. 

Amy just shook her head. “Maybe it’s time to stop for today. You’re really cranky, but I know exactly what will cheer you up!” she said. Before Fiske had the time to decline whatever she was offering, she had skipped away from him and was approaching Bates. The valet quickly hid his face behind his book to look like he hadn’t been listening. 

“Hello, Batesy,” Amy greeted him.

“Good day, madam,” he replied. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“No, no, I’m just on my way to the kitchen. I’ll get Monty some cake to make him feel better. He’s so upset.”

“You shouldn’t worry about it, madam. Lord Fiske had a tendency to be somewhat impatient at times,” Bates said.

“I don’t mind at all. He’s cute when he frowns like that. I just wish he’d take his exercises more seriously and stop snapping at me. But I guess every relationship has problems,” Amy mused.

“Whatever you say, madam.”

For a brief moment he watched how Amy disappeared up the path to her lair, but he was much more interested in Fiske’s condition. Bates put down his book and walked over to where his master was struggling to walk with the support of the trees around him. He seemed to have a clear destination in his mind. 

“May I inquire where you’re going, milord?” he asked. 

Fiske stopped his attempts to cast a glare at him. “I’m going to spend the day in the forest. Alone. I will never get any exercises done as long as that woman keeps bothering me. Keep her distracted for as long as you can and don’t let her follow me.” 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? You are hardly capable of surviving alone right now, milord,” Bates said. 

Fiske’s shoulders hunched at being reminded of the obvious facts, but the determination on his face didn’t fade away. 

“Don’t question me. I know what I’m doing,” he hissed. 

“Very well,” Bates agreed. He supposed that there was no way something could really go wrong. The worst that could happen was that Fiske would collapse somewhere in the forest and be lost until they found him, and that wasn’t really a problem. The man was fully capable of surviving that. Besides, he did deserve a break from Amy’s attentions. 

Bates returned to his chair and book and returned to reading. He wanted to look like he had been entirely captured by the tale the whole time. He didn’t lift his eyes from the pages until he heard Amy arrive some moments later.

“Where did Monty go?” she asked. She was holding a tray with enough cake and tea for a small army. 

“I’m afraid I have no idea, madam. He must have wandered off while I was reading,” Bates replied. 

“Well, that’s not very nice! He knew I was coming back in a minute,” Amy huffed. She put down the tray and took a seat next to Bates. “Do you think he’s avoiding me?”

“Well, I --”

“But of course he wouldn’t do that. He has been so nice to me. Why would he suddenly change his mind?” Amy wondered. She didn’t seem to want Bates’s opinion on her musings, so he let her talk.

“I mean, he had no problem with me calling him cute names before. And he didn’t mind if I held his hand,” she said and sighed miserably. 

Bates almost felt sorry for her. She had been manipulated and lied to simply so that Fiske could get what he wanted, and hearing the truth would be hard for her. He decided to build some basis so that the shock wouldn’t be so big when Fiske finally decided to be blunt with her. 

“Lord Fiske is not exactly the romantic type. I dare suggest you might have mistaken his politeness for something else, madam,” he said. 

“But we had such a great time at your castle! He was so charming when we went to have a walk around the moors. Nobody else has ever talked to me like that,” Amy argued. 

Bates had no idea what Fiske had said to Amy on that occasion, but he doubted he had directly made any promises. It had to be all in her head, a result of reading too much into vague hints. He wished he had the courage to be impolite enough to say this to her, but there was no way he could start accusing Fiske of playing with anyone’s feelings like a low class slime ball. 

“Perhaps this is something you need to discuss with him. It might be a good idea to ask him where you stand before making assumptions,” he offered. That was as far as he could allow himself go, and even that was a risky comment. He would have never made it in Fiske’s presence, but he had the feeling that Amy needed everything about this matter spelled out for her. 

Amy frowned at him in annoyance. “I haven’t made assumptions. I know how to read a man’s behaviour,” she said with a hurt edge in her voice.

Bates knew there was no point arguing with her. He would never be able to convince her, and this wasn’t his mess to deal with. For a moment, his mind turned to stories of valets solving uncompromising romance problems by pushing the unwanted female into a more willing man’s arms, but they were currently lacking potential suitors. It was probably for the best to let Fiske deal with what he had caused.

“His Lordship must be feeling annoyed by his incapability to walk. Maybe you should give him some time,” he suggested. 

“Yes, that’s a good idea.” Amy’s eyes shone with sudden excitement. “He’s probably just afraid of commitment. I’ll get through to him. Here, have some cake.”

Bates reluctantly took a piece of the cake, but it turned out to be rather good. Even if she had no other desirable qualities, she was a very good cook. He actually felt tempted to ask for the recipe.

***

“Pack the bags, Bates. We’re getting out of here!” Fiske told him only two days later. 

“Already, milord? What for?” Bates asked, though he could guess the answer. 

“What for? That woman! I’ve had it with her! I’ll go insane if she doesn’t stop bothering me with her strawberry cake.” Fiske finished buttoning up his shirt and got carefully on his feet, trying not to wince. 

“Are you certain you can walk, milord?” Bates asked. Fiske had made remarkable process in only a few days, but he was still far from being comfortable with his feet.

“I will run if I have to,” the man muttered under his breath.

“Ms Hall is going to be very disappointed. You promised her that --”

“I didn’t promise her a single thing! She has made it all up!” 

“But you did lead her on quite conveniently, milord,” Bates pointed out. 

“Of course I did. It was necessary to make things go a tad smoother, but I never intended that it should go further. This has been nothing but a professional relationship, and that is how it shall stay,” Fiske said. 

Bates supposed Fiske hadn’t been as naïve as he had originally thought. Charming Amy had been his plan all along, but he had made one grave miscalculation. 

“I dare say it won’t be that easy. Ms Hall seems quite persistent,” the valet said. 

“Nonsense. She will see my point when I make it clearly. She is, after all, an intelligent if a somewhat bizarre and nonsensical woman.”

As if it was fate, Amy chose just that moment to enter the room. “You should say such nice things to my face sometime, cutie-pie,” she announced. 

“Ah, Amy. I was just thinking about you,” Fiske said and forced a smile on his face. 

Amy giggled. “Do I dare ask what kind of thoughts you were having?” she asked and snuggled up against him like a cat. Fiske could barely conceal his disgusted grimace as he pushed her away with both hands. 

“Maybe I should leave you alone,” Bates said. 

“No. You have barely started packing,” Fiske said, still struggling with Amy. 

“Packing?” Amy asked in surprise and finally stepped away from Fiske. “Why are you packing?”

“Bates and I have agreed that this is our time to take our leave. Something urgent has recently been brought to our attention.”

Amy looked like all future lines of Cuddle Buddies had been cancelled. “But I thought we were going to have a romantic stroll under the moonlight when your feet get better,” she complained. 

“Yes, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I think you might have got the wrong impression about us,” Fiske said. The sorry and understanding expression on his face looked almost genuine. 

“What do you mean?” Amy asked. 

“I mean that regardless of what you may think, there is absolutely no romantic future for the two of us,” Fiske stated. 

“But I thought we were doing really well! What happened?”

Fiske gritted his teeth to stop himself from snapping at her. “Nothing ever happened. That’s the point,” he said as calmly as he could.

“But… but…” Amy stammered and looked first down at her fingers, then desperately at Monty and at her fingers again. Bates held his breath as he awaited her reaction. Would she cry? Would she be angry? 

“I understand,” she finally said. 

“You do?” Fiske asked with brows high up on his forehead. 

“Of course. I know you’re planning some big project right now, so you have no time for a relationship. But don’t worry; I will wait until you’re done. Then we can finally be together,” Amy said, her face brightening with a smile.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Fiske hurried to explain, starting to sound a tad desperate.

“Don’t worry. You don’t have to push me away. I know what it’s like when work takes over your life. Just go back to England. I’ll be in touch with you later!” Amy said. She gave Fiske a small nudge between the ribs and walked to the door, completely clueless to what was really going on. 

“I take back what I said about her intelligence,” Fiske remarked when she was gone. 

“Do you want me to change the phone number to the castle, milord?” Bates asked. 

“Do that, Bates. Do that.”


	15. Chapter 15

Their trip home was uneventful. Fiske avoided all questions about his feet by claiming that he had massive blisters as a result of a failed hike. Bates assisted him as well as he could, and they did manage to pull that act off. 

Though nothing bad had happened and they hadn’t really been gone for that long, the valet was very happy to be back at the castle. Even the horrendous monkey paintings seemed a little friendlier than usual. Or rather, that was what it felt like until they made Bates remember the four jade statues and Fiske’s senseless belief in magic. 

He had been so focused on worrying about the mutation that he had almost forgotten the main issue. Wanting to have himself mutated was bizarre but not necessarily insane. Believing in magic and some rubbish about destiny was more than enough of a reason to have a room in the psychiatric ward. 

Again he found himself wondering if he shouldn’t do something to stop the madness before they went too far. He wanted nothing more than to get through to Fiske and somehow make him realise the insanity of his interest in the statues, but he had no idea how to do it. The man wouldn’t listen to him; he never had when something was this important to him. The only other option was to force Fiske into therapy, but then he would have betrayed his master’s trust and destroyed the name of the family. Bates knew exactly how that scene would play out. Fiske wouldn’t accept any sort of help without being first dragged away and then being forced to take it, and the valet couldn’t bear the mental images he got from those thoughts. 

He supposed he would just have to go on and hope that things wouldn’t get out of hand. Fiske hadn’t mentioned the statues in a while. Maybe time had made him calm down so that his interest was merely academic again. 

This was the hopeful thought in his head when he was taking the tea service down to the secret room behind the fireplace. For some reason or another, Fiske wanted to have his afternoon tea there. 

“Milord, what are you wearing?”

Lord Fiske was sitting on the floor, his legs crossed and eyes closed. This wasn’t what surprised Bates since he had seen it before and now also knew the reason for meditating from the diary. No, it was the black outfit that made him stop at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Milord?” he called again when there was no reply. 

Fiske remained silent and motionless for a couple of more minutes until the sound of a chime echoed from somewhere. He climbed up to his feet, still with some difficulty, and limped to where Bates was standing. 

“What was that about, milord?” Bates asked as Fiske took his cup of tea. 

“The chime? I installed it to make sure my meditation remains perfectly regular. It is essential for the harmony between mind and body,” Fiske explained. 

“And the rather fascinating manner of clothing? If I may say so, it doesn’t go very well together with the rest of your wardrobe,” Bates said, eyeing the offending garment with some amount of distaste. 

His discomfort didn’t go unnoticed by Fiske, who frowned down at him. “Then I will have to change my style, won’t I?”

Bates didn’t want to ruin the day with a needless argument, so he quickly let that part of the topic die and switched to something Fiske might want to talk about. 

“Is this your new garb for martial arts training?” he asked.

“You could say that, but as I’m going to devote a considerable part of my life to training, you might also say that this is my future.”

Bates shifted uncomfortably. His hopes about Fiske having forgotten his new life of magic crumpled to pieces, though it didn’t surprise him very much. All he could wish for now was that Fiske wouldn’t succumb too far into his fantasy world. The drop back to reality could be too painful to handle. 

“I can’t hear you say anything, Bates,” Fiske observed. 

“I’m not sure what to say, milord.”

“The least you could do is to express enthusiasm for the glory that awaits me. I have done much research ever since I returned from China, and I know now what my destiny is.” Fiske walked to the centre of the room as he spoke and stopped to stand there, surrounded by the three jade monkeys. Bates hadn’t noticed it before, but the floor was covered in chalk sketches that Fiske must have drawn recently. 

“And… what is your destiny, milord?” he asked once he was able to tear his eyes away from the unfinished image. He tried to recall everything he had read in the diary, but most of Fiske’s research had gone over his head. 

Fiske turned around, making Bates take an involuntary step back. The look on the man’s face was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Fiske’s features were twisted in an excited grin so that he barely looked like himself, and his eyes shone with sudden insanity. 

“My destiny?” he repeated. Even his voice was unfamiliar. It was high and restrained, like he was about to burst into laughter at any minute. “Why should I tell you about that?”

What Bates wanted to do was to rush to his master and shake him out of this madness, but something made him stand still. He didn’t like to admit it, but he felt like Fiske was suddenly not in control of his actions or words. 

“You have always been able to trust me, milord. And your father before you,” he said. 

“Which gives you a marvellous opportunity to hit me where it hurts,” Fiske mused. 

“What would I gain from betraying you? Serving the family is all I have in my life,” Bates said. He felt a pang as he said the words. In the past he would have found no reason to complain, but now he realised how uncomfortable it was getting in Fiske’s company. 

The man’s scowl deepened as he considered what Bates had said, and finally something resembling a smile appeared on his face. 

“True enough. Besides, soon I will be so powerful that nothing can stop me. Then it won’t matter whether you stay by my side or not,” he said. 

Bates didn’t think Fiske had the faintest idea how hurtful such words were. They had been together all through Fiske’s life. He _had_ to be more than a replaceable servant.

“In any case, I suppose I can tell you something. Otherwise you will not be able to assist me in my quest,” Fiske decided. He frowned in thought for a moment as if he was not yet sure what details he wanted to share with Bates and what not, but eventually he continued. 

“You remember my trip to China and how I brought back the second statue, don’t you?”

“Of course.” 

“While I was there, I spent most of my time at the same martial arts school where my father studied in his days. What I did there is not necessary for you to know, but I want to tell you about the great revelation I had,” Fiske said. 

“Revelation, milord?” Bates asked. Hopefully Fiske wouldn’t notice that his surprise at hearing about magic and destiny wasn’t genuine. 

A smile took over Fiske’s features and for a moment he looked like he was in Heaven. “Yes,” he breathed. “It was there that I learnt about the Ultimate Monkey Master. The Chosen One who will master all arts of Tai Shing Pek Kwar and rise to greatness with the help of the Mystical Monkey Power.”

“But that is only a legend, milord,” Bates pointed out. 

Fiske’s smile was replaced by an irritated scowl. “That’s what you and others blinded by lies think! I had a vision that convinced me that the myth is real. Even more importantly, I am the Ultimate Monkey Master! All the signs point to that!”

“But --”

“Why else would I have discovered the statues when nobody else knows about them? Why would I have acquired them with such ease? It cannot be a coincidence that they end up in the hands of someone who is a master of Tai Shing Pek Kwar, knows enough about history to do the necessary research and has an open mind to accept the stunning truth. Why else would I have been led to the statues? Who else could be worthier than me? Hmm?”

“I… can’t say, milord,” the valet stuttered. When it was put like that, it did make some amount of sense, assuming that this nonsense was real. And it wasn’t, so no matter how logical Fiske’s arguments were, they were still nothing but rubbish. He would be so disappointed in the end.

“Exactly. There is no other explanation. Even Master Lo at the school must have realised it as he didn’t try to stop me from taking the second statue,” Fiske concluded. 

That was a detail that had bothered Bates a little ever since he had read about it in the diary. Experience had shown him that people didn’t usually want to give up their ancient secrets like that, unless the other person proved that they were worthy of it. But if Fiske’s observations in the diary had been true, Master Lo hadn’t had a very high opinion of him. It made no sense that he would give such a treasure to someone he didn’t value. 

“So, it was a gift,” he said. At least Fiske hadn’t stolen it like his original intention had been.

“I wouldn’t say that. I merely took something that was rightfully mine,” Fiske said. 

“And what about Master Lo, milord? Did he have anything to say when you parted?” Bates asked. 

“No. He didn’t.” 

Bates blinked and waited a second, expecting Fiske to elaborate, but that was all the man said. His jaw was clenched, and for a moment he looked so lost in his thoughts that he had to be recalling something significant that had happened. Bates had seen that look in Fiske’s eyes only a few times before, and it had never been a happy occasion. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked, but Fiske wouldn’t even acknowledge it.

Bates grew wary of contemplating what terrible things had to have happened in China. Whatever it was it could not be more significant than what he already knew. 

“How are your feet doing, milord?” he asked. 

Fiske took the bait and brightened instantly and managed to put whatever was bothering him aside. “Just brilliantly. They still hurt, but I can walk and I think I’ll be able to start training in a few days.”

“Haven’t you already been doing that?” Bates questioned. Fiske had gone through some simple martial arts routines every day to see how well his knew feet worked in Tai Shing Pek Kwar. Bates could see absolutely no improvement, but Fiske was thrilled by the results. 

“I’m not talking about kung fu,” Fiske said. He pointed a finger up to the ceiling that was supported by several thick wooden girders. Bates looked up, but it took him a moment to realise what Fiske was talking about. 

“You’re planning to climb up there, milord?” he asked. He couldn’t say he was surprised.

Fiske was also looking up with an expectant smile on his face. “Of course I am. What else should a man do when he has beautiful feet like this?”

“Very well, but please be careful,” Bates said. 

“That goes without saying. We wouldn’t want to break these new hands,” Fiske said. He noticed only now that he had forgotten to take a single sip of his tea and that it was no longer hot. He frowned in annoyance and put the cup back on the tray. 

“In any case, I want you to drop by town tomorrow and get us some paint,” he said. 

“Paint, milord? What for?” Bates asked. 

Fiske nodded at the chalk sketches on the floor. “I found an ancient monkey symbol for Tai Shing Pek Kwar in one of my books. I want to paint it here on the floor so that the jade statues can surround it symmetrically.”

Bates supposed there was nothing wrong with that. The castle was already decorated with so many monkey paintings and relics that it was almost ridiculous. One more, especially down here where nobody could see it, wouldn’t hurt anybody.

“Is there anything else you require, milord?” he asked.

“Not at the moment, but I’m expecting a large delivery some time in the future. I need you to take care of it in case I’m not present.”

“Have you purchased something?” Bates asked. He didn’t get his hopes up about that it might be something sensible. 

“Do you remember Lee Tan?” Fiske asked. 

The name sounded familiar, but it took a moment before Bates could connect it to a face. “You mean that Singaporean collector you were acquainted with some years ago?”

Fiske nodded. “Yes, that’s him. He had a marvellous ancient altar in his collection. I recently discovered that it belonged to a temple where the last members of the Tai Shing Pek Kwar tribe lived. I believe it might hold some mystical powers, but even if that’s not the case, I simply had to have it,” he explained. 

“Hopefully it wasn’t too expensive,” Bates said. He still didn’t know how much Fiske had spent on Amy’s laboratory, but he hadn’t bought a single new book or item ever since they had returned. 

“He didn’t want to part from it, but I managed to convince him to accept a trade. I will be sending him two vases and that old Japanese painting with baboons,” Fiske said. 

Bates lifted his brows. “That one in your study? But it was your father’s favourite. He spent almost ten years trying to obtain it from another collector.” 

Fiske’s impassionate expression said he didn’t really care. “He is dead, so I see no harm in getting rid of it. I have no emotional ties to it.” 

Bates had, and he had a hard time believing that Fiske was letting go of is father’s most precious painting. The valet could remember the frustration Gregory Fiske had shown every time his offer to purchase it had been turned down and the immense joy when he had finally been able to add it to his collection. Fiske had been only a teenager and off in boarding school when this had happened, so maybe he didn’t realise how important the painting had been. 

“Isn’t there anything else you could offer him?” he asked. 

“No, and I’m not going to start arguing with him or he might decide to keep the altar after all,” Fiske said.

Bates would have liked to try and convince Fiske to change his mind, but he knew that there was no way they could have a rational discussion about the subject. When it came down to Mystical Monkey Power, it was like Fiske was entirely beyond reason. In addition, the painting wasn’t his, so he had no say in the decision. 

“As you wish, milord,” he said with a sigh. 

“Don’t be such a pessimist. I’m starting to grow tired of how you criticise all of my decisions. You didn’t do that in the beginning,” Fiske said. 

“If I dare say so, your decisions in the beginning…” Bates stopped to ponder what he could say. Claiming that Fiske’s decisions back then had been more rational was out of the question. 

“Yes? Out with it!”

“Well, I think your decisions in the beginning were more beneficial for you. I fear your recent… escapades might have endangered your career and reputation among your peers,” Bates finally said. He expected Fiske to charge into another heated rant, but to his surprise the man didn’t do that.

Fiske laughed. It wasn’t the dry and amused chuckling he was accustomed to but a high-pitched chortle that made his shoulders shake and sent shivers down Bates’s back. He clutched to the tea service so that he wouldn’t drop it. 

“That shows just how blinded you really are, Bates,” Fiske said with a shake of his head. There was something sad in the smile he offered his valet, like he was taking pity on him. “If you understood everything I do, you would know that I no longer have a need for my career or colleagues. There are far greater things in my future than those pathetic games.”

Bates opened his mouth to reply, but he realised that he had nothing to say. It made him feel sick, but he knew there was no way to make Fiske see the truth. He had let his delusions cloud his judgement too much. Maybe things had already gone too far. Maybe there was no way back anymore.

“Whatever you say, milord,” he said sadly. He could only hope that Fiske would snap out of this once it turned out that the jade statues had no magic in them. If he didn’t, Bates would always feel guilty about not stepping in when the first warning signs had showed up.

***

Bates drove to town next day to pick up the paint that Fiske wanted. Getting out of the castle and talking to people other than Fiske – normal people, his mind whispered – was something he didn’t realise he had missed until he actually entered the store and saw the familiar faces. 

It wasn’t a busy day, so there was only the shopkeeper and one customer, but he knew both of them. He had visited the town a lot more frequently back when the jade statues hadn’t been a part of Fiske’s life. Nowadays he felt like he couldn’t leave the man alone or something terrible might happen. 

“Well, hello! Haven’t seen you around in a while,” the shopkeeper said. 

“I’ve been very busy lately,” Bates replied. He nodded at the other customer and got a grunt in response. 

“His Lordship is working on a new project? We noticed you two travelled away for a moment,” the shopkeeper said. 

Bates didn’t want to lie to the man, but it was common courtesy to give him something to gossip about. Nothing ever happened in this town, so it was better for everyone’s sanity if they could talk about something every now and then. A good cover-up story would also work in Fiske’s favour in the end if he had to travel again.

“Yes, he is writing a new book and needs to travel occasionally to gather information for it,” he said.

“Oh. So, where were you two weeks ago?” the man asked casually. 

“In Argentina. Lord Fiske visited a library in San Juan,” Bates said, knowing that the conversation would end there. Nobody was interested in Fiske’s work.

“Nice,” the shopkeeper said with obvious disinterest. “So, did you come here for something? Is there something wrong with the deliveries to the castle?”

“No, not at all. I would like some yellow, red and black paint, please. We’re redecorating,” Bates said. 

“You could have picked better colours. Just a moment.” The shopkeeper walked to the backroom and started rummaging around to find what Bates wanted. 

The valet turned to look at the other customer. The man hadn’t moved at all from his spot and was still reading the etiquette of that same tin of tomato sauce. If it had been anybody else, Bates might have said something about the weather, but he knew that old Andy wasn’t a conversationalist. He usually had only one topic he wanted to discuss with Bates. 

“So, how’s Margaret?” the man finally asked and put the tin back to the shelf. 

“She’s doing fine,” Bates said, though he realised that he hadn’t rung her in quite a while. He had been too busy worrying about Fiske’s mutation to even think about his sister. 

“She shouldn’t be all alone like that,” Andy pointed out. “Someone should be there for her.”

Bates couldn’t say whether there was something accusing in the man’s eyes, or whether he was only speaking wistfully. He knew that Margaret had liked to spend evenings with Andy before she had met and married Thomas. Though the idea of someone pining for his sister after all those years disturbed and worried him somewhat, he couldn’t really blame him. He hadn’t even thought about remarrying after Nora had died. 

“She is fine,” he repeated. “And the neighbours are helping her.”

Andy grunted doubtfully. “Is she going to --” he asked, but that was when the shopkeeper returned with three pots of paint. He slammed them against the counter and brushed the dust off his hands. 

“I haven’t had anyone buy paint in ages. I hope it’s not too old,” he said. 

“I think we’ll manage. Thank you,” Bates said. He nodded at the two men and exited the store. It hadn’t been a grand experience of conversational excellence, but it had made him feel a little better. The sun seemed somehow brighter when he wasn’t looking at it through the tall windows of the castle and the children returning from school were like from an entirely different world than his.

***

Lord Fiske was in the middle of his martial arts training when Bates arrived at the secret room. He put down the pots of paint and stayed back to observe what his master was doing. Without an opponent the training wouldn’t help Fisk achieve optimal performance, but it couldn’t really be helped. In the past he had sometimes jokingly asked Bates to join him, but nowadays he took Tai Shing Pek Kwar too seriously to do that. 

For a moment he watched how Fiske aimed hits at a wooden target, but he could see no improvement compared to the past. In fact, he would go as far as to say that Fiske had got clumsier because his feet couldn’t keep up with his hands. His steps were careful and he couldn’t shift his weight entirely on one foot without it becoming too painful. 

“Is there something you want?” Fiske asked and stopped his training. 

“I have brought the paint, milord,” Bates said. 

“Excellent! We will start working on the floor when I’m done with my training and when we’ve had tea,” Fiske said. He was about to go back to work, but he noticed that Bates hadn’t made a move to leave. 

“Yes?” he inquired.

“I am a little worried, milord. Are you certain you’re ready to be training so soon? Your feet may not be able to take it yet.”

Fiske crossed his arms on his chest. “Since when did you become an expert in this area? My judgement regarding this is quite sound.”

“I am merely suggesting that you might be back in shape faster if you dedicated a few days to resting, milord,” Bates explained. “And then we could embark on finding the fourth statue sooner,” he quickly added. Maybe it wasn’t the most honest thing to do, but he would rather trick Fiske than see him break his feet beyond repair in his impatience. 

“I see what you’re trying to do, but you may have a point,” Fiske said. He glanced mournfully at the target he had been using a while ago. “Maybe I shouldn’t hurry.”

“You have waited for so long that a few more weeks won’t matter in the long run,” Bates agreed. 

“And in the meantime I can finish my research and find the exact location of the final statue,” Fiske muttered as he tapped his chin and turned around to look at the secret room. He was now speaking only to himself, leaving Bates feeling ignored. 

“But right now we have to start painting the floor. The symbol must be done when the fourth jade monkey arrives,” Fiske concluded. He told Bates that they would have their tea later after all and went to change out of his martial arts garb. 

Bates decided to go and find old newspapers that they could use for covering the floor when they painted. He hoped the symbol wouldn’t be too complicated. He knew he had no artistic skills of any kind, and he didn’t think Fiske was a genius in that regard either. 

Soon enough they were ready to start working, dressed in the worst they could find and having covered the floor with past issues of The Daily Telegraph. Bates eyed Fiske’s chalk sketches on the floor and wondered if having the monkey there was worth all this effort. 

“Shall I start thinning the paint, milord?” he asked. He had to repeat his question because Fiske was too lost in his thoughts to hear him at first. 

He snapped back to reality and frowned. “Go ahead. I want to make sure I did the sketch right. It’s so big that it’s hard to tell from this perspective.” He turned his head to look up to the ceiling where the wooden girders were.

Bates followed his gaze. “Do you want me to get a ladd--” he started but was cut off when Fiske leapt into the air, caught a timber with his hands and climbed up with relative ease, not even breaking a sweat. 

“I think we have to make that arm a little longer,” Fiske said and pointed to the sketch. He made no comment about how Bates was staring at him with his jaw open and eyes wide like those of a fish, but the faintest smirk on his face told the valet how much Fiske was enjoying his surprise.

“And maybe the head a little less round,” Fiske continued. He started walking back and forth on the beam as he regarded the sketch with a critical look. Bates was about to shout at him to stop playing and not do something as dangerous as that, but then he noticed how firmly Fiske’s toes were grabbing the wood. There was no way he could fall.

As unnatural as it looked, maybe it was an advantage after all. The fourth temple with the statue would no doubt be filled with traps, and Fiske would need every trick he had to survive that. They didn’t need to repeat what had happened in Indonesia, or worse. 

Fiske climbed carefully back down to avoid impact on his feet. He brushed dust off his hands – which were still hairy because he had refused to shave them and ruin their perfection – and shot an amused look at Bates. 

“You’re gawking,” he remarked. 

“I’m merely surprised, milord. I wasn’t expecting such a performance.”

“I don’t see why it should come as a shock to you. You knew why I had the procedure done,” Fiske said. 

“True, but… To be honest, milord, I had my doubts about whether it would work as planned,” Bates admitted. 

Fiske chuckled. “Then maybe you will have enough faith to trust my judgement from now on,” he said. He picked up a paintbrush with his foot and tossed it at Bates. “How about getting to work?”

***

Two weeks went by with relative ease. Fiske busied himself with his research and left Bates mostly to himself. It didn’t bother the valet very much because he had a lot to do and he enjoyed getting a break, though he was a little worried about what his master was doing. After a while, Fiske decided his feet had had enough rest and went back to training and climbing all around the castle like some sort of critter. Bates had nearly had a heart attack when Fiske had surprised him by entering his study through the window after taking a stroll on the outer walls.

Bates filled the pot with water but didn’t start boiling it just yet. It was still a while before Fiske would be requiring his afternoon tea, and the valet wanted to have this spare moment to himself. He dried his hands and walked to the phone to ring Margaret. It was a while since he had last heard from her, and while he wasn’t overly worried, he wanted to know what was going on in her life. 

When she picked up the phone, he could hear the sound of happy chatter and laughter in the background. It had to be a busy evening at the inn, and he suddenly felt like he would have rather been there. The dim hall where the phone was seemed a little darker to him now.

“Oh, hi, William! Nice to hear from you,” Margaret said when she realised who it was. Bates couldn’t remember when he had last heard her voice so cheerful. It was like Thomas had never died. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t rung in a while. I have been busy,” he said.

“Don’t worry, I’ve been busy, too. They are now letting tourists into the Blacklake Mansion, so we’re all booked up and the pub is full every evening,” his sister explained. She had to shout something to someone, and there was laughter in her voice when she returned to the phone and apologized. 

“You sound happy,” Bates observed. He felt the tiniest stab of jealousy. 

“You have no idea. I had almost forgotten how great life can be. You should drop by. Take Monty with you, too. You both have to get out of that dusty castle for a while,” Margaret said. 

“I will suggest it to him, but I think he’s currently too busy with his research to do much else,” Bates said.

“You always say that,” Margaret said. She sounded worried now and her voice was quieter, like she didn’t want anyone else to hear what she was saying. If the background noise was of any indication, it was a useless fear. 

“You know him,” Bates said. 

“Yes, and that makes me worried. I always joke about how it’s unhealthy to be all alone like that, but I really mean it. You should tell him to go out more,” Margaret said. After a moment, she added, “I’m worried about you, too. I know you want to be like father and live your life serving a Fiske, but you should think of yourself first. If staying with Monty is as hard as your voice makes is sound, you should leave.”

“I would never do that. I’m surprised you even suggest it,” Bates said bewilderment. To leave Lord Fiske? No matter what happened and how far the madness went, he would always be there by his side. Nothing would change that.

Margaret sighed. “Yes, I know. But at least consider it. There’s always room for you here, and I’d love to have you around.”

“I will,” Bates promised. He wondered how they had suddenly switched to worrying about him and his life. He had thought it was Margaret who needed looking-after, but she seemed to have her life in much better order than him. 

He put down the receiver after they had talked some more. Without the noise of the pub in his ears the castle felt dreadfully silent, like everyone and everything inside it was stuck in time, living but never advancing in any way. The monkey paintings that were staring at him from everywhere only added to the illusion of imprisoned life, so he swiftly returned to the kitchen. It was about time to serve Fiske his tea. 

He found the man sitting in his study, bent over a book and keeping an atlas open with his other hand. There was also a laptop on the desk within his reach. Without the monkey hands, the sight could have been from anywhere in the past, and Bates felt a sense of loss at the idea that things would probably never be like that anymore. 

He coughed. “Your tea, milord.”

“Mm-hm. Put it on the desk,” Fiske muttered without tearing his eyes from the book.

“I’m sorry, but there is no room,” Bates said.

“Yes, that’s fine,” Fiske said, oblivious to his valet’s comment. Bates felt tempted to sigh, but he only placed the tea service on a chair and started pouring some tea into a cup. As he did so, he kept an eye on Fiske. Whatever he had discovered in his books had his complete attention. 

“Have you found something interesting, milord?” he asked as he placed the cup before the man. 

Only this got Fiske’s attention and his head shot up. “Interesting?” he repeated. “I have found things far beyond that!” He took the atlas and showed Bates a map. “I had a hunch that the statue would be somewhere in South East Asia, but I have finally discovered the exact location in Cambodia. They were well hidden, but I did find some old records of a temple in the rainforests,” he said, his eyes shining with eagerness. 

Bates had been hoping for a friendlier setting for the final temple, but he guessed this result was to be expected. 

“So, we will travel to Cambodia, then.”

“Not quite yet. My feet have improved greatly, but I don’t think I’m ready yet,” Fiske said. 

“Yes, it is a sensible idea to wait. The temple is sure to be dangerous,” Bates said, happy for that Fiske wouldn’t dash into danger when he still hadn’t recovered fully. 

“True, and that is why I have decided to eliminate the risks. I cannot afford being injured again this time. I have decided to call in some outside help.”

“Outside help?” Bates repeated with a blink. What could Fiske mean by that? Why would he suddenly let someone get involved when he had been so set on protecting his secrets from everyone?

“I have found someone who can retrieve the statue for me. I will make the necessary arrangements so that she doesn’t suspect anything,” Fiske explained. He pushed his book aside and turned the laptop around so that Bates could see the website that Fiske had been browsing. 

“Kim Possible,” he read out loud. “She can do anything.”


	16. Chapter 16

Bates finished setting up their camp and stretched his aching back. He knew he was getting too old for following Fiske on his adventures, especially now that the man had bio-engineered hands and feet and could move much more swiftly if he wanted. His only consolation this time was that he wouldn’t have to enter the temple. 

They had arrived at the agreed spot two days before Kim Possible was due to meet them. Fiske wanted to take a look at the temple before letting her in, and it was also necessary to scout their surroundings for some sort of plan that he had cooked up. Bates had no idea what Fiske was going to do or what purpose it would serve, but he was willing to trust his master’s judgement on this one. 

Fiske wasn’t with him at the moment. He had gone to investigate the temple. Bates had last seen him climbing on top of the ruins and pointing his torch at every hole and crack he encountered in hopes of discovering something. The valet hadn’t wanted to leave Fiske alone in such a dangerous place, but it was starting to get dark and their tent wasn’t going to be set up on its own. 

He glanced at the sky where the last traces of orange and yellow were almost entirely engulfed by the night. It was about time for Fiske to start getting back, and Bates decided to go and look for him. Even in the past he would have been worried because Fiske had always had the unhealthy habit of forgetting the rest of the world when something interesting crossed his path, but now with these latest quirks… He didn’t dare leave the man alone with a monkey temple for too long. 

Bates made sure their campfire wouldn’t get out of control and then picked up an electric torch. It was about a five-minute walk to the temple, but they had marked the path clearly when they had arrived.

The rainforest around him was eerily silent, which bothered him somewhat. He had spent enough nights in jungles to know that the forest never truly fell asleep; there was always some distant howling, scratching or some nocturnal animal’s steps on fallen leaves. All he could hear now was the sound of his own steps as he walked down the path. His mind instantly went back to the horror stories he had liked to read as a boy. 

By the time he arrived at the location of the temple, darkness had swallowed the forest. He turned on his torch and pointed it at the direction of the ruins, almost taking a surprised step back when he saw the face of the stone monkey. The shadows made the entrance look far more grotesque than in daylight, almost alive.

“Milord?” he called out. “Are you here?”

There was no reply at first and for one terrible moment he thought Fiske had decided to enter the temple after all. If he had got lost or been caught in a trap, there was very little Bates would be able to do for him before Kim Possible arrived. 

Then he heard Fiske’s voice from somewhere near the temple and sighed in relief. He followed the voice until he reached the ruins and pointed the light up to where great towers had once stood. Fiske was sitting in the middle of all the rubble, his legs crossed and eyes closed. The light from Bates’s torch broke his concentration and he shielded his face from it. 

“What now?” he asked in irritation. 

“The night has fallen, milord. Isn’t it about time to return to the camp?”

Fiske stood up to brush sand off his trousers and took a surprised look at his surroundings. “Oh. I didn’t even realise how late it is.”

“Did you find something of interest, milord?” Bates asked as Fiske started climbing down the temple wall. The valet frowned a little when he noticed that the man was not wearing shoes. New feet or not, he didn’t have to start acting like a lower-class bum.

“There are no items, and everything has mostly turned into rubble over the years, but can’t you just feel the Mystical Monkey Power here? There’s something in the air around this temple,” Fiske said. He patted the head of a broken monkey statue with an absent smile on his face. “This place was built by practitioners of Tai Shing Pek Kwar. My predecessors. I could almost feel their presence when I sat meditating atop the temple.”

“The temple truly is an archaeological treasure,” Bates pointed out. 

Fiske snorted. “Archaeology! Open your eyes to greater things! Below our feet rests the fourth jade monkey, the final piece I need for fulfilling my destiny,” he said and walked past Bates. He marched to the temple entrance and pointed the light of his torch at it. 

“To think that true power is so close to my grasp… Going inside is very, very tempting,” he mused. 

“Are you sure we really need this Kim Possible to assist us? She might get curious and start asking questions that we cannot answer,” Bates said. He didn’t know what he should have thought of the whole ordeal. On one hand, Fiske was reaching out to the outside world and getting back into his old life as an explorer, even if it was just an act to fool Ms Possible. Bates hoped feverishly that being back in such a familiar setting would open Fiske’s eyes to what he was doing and help nudge him back on the correct path. 

On the other hand, if that didn’t happen and the insanity kept going on, they would have witnesses to deal with. Fiske had told Ms Possible that the statue would be donated to the National Museum, which he of course had no intention of doing. Sooner or later this would reach her ears. The last thing they needed was a world-renown hero accusing them of theft and bringing Fiske’s instability to light. 

“Well, I’m sure I could find the statue on my own as well, but I discovered some interesting notes about this temple through my research. If even half of it is true, this temple is the most dangerous of the set. The traps have become increasingly more threatening since the first temple. I wouldn’t want to risk injuring my new hands and feet when I’m this close to success,” Fiske said. 

“I’m only worried that her involvement might cause trouble for us, milord. She will no doubt grow suspicious when she learns that we didn’t give the statue to the museum,” Bates said. 

“Don’t worry about that. I am planning to masquerade as a ninja and steal the statue right under their noses. They won’t suspect a thing,” Fiske said. He said it lightly, like he was talking about what they would have for dinner instead of a risky and foolish plan that would endanger everything. 

“Ah… Are you sure about that, milord? Wouldn’t it be more sensible to claim that the statue was stolen once we’ve parted ways with them?” Bates asked. 

“No! Think a little, Bates! They have to see the theft so that they know I’m innocent. We must leave absolutely no room for doubt in their minds!” Fiske snapped. Bates supposed it was true, but it still didn’t mean he would have like this plan. 

“They?” he repeated. “I thought Ms Possible was coming alone.”

Fiske shrugged. “She’s bringing some sort of sidekick with her. I forget his name, but it doesn’t matter. It’s Kim Possible we have to be worried about. Her companion is never going to cause us any trouble.”

***

The agreed day dawned faster than Bates had been hoping. He felt nervous and fidgety in the destined morning and couldn’t keep his mind on his chores. Two times did he knock over the water for their tea, and Fiske’s patience was starting to grow thin after he had saved Bates from doing it the third time. 

“What is wrong with you today?” he demanded in irritation as he placed the bucket of water a good distance away from his valet. 

“I’m sorry, milord. I’m too nervous about today. I can’t help but feel that something is going to go wrong,” Bates said.

“Have more faith in me! I have planned everything down to the last detail, and I know exactly what I’m doing!” Fiske said. He sat down by the fire and resumed what he had been doing before saving the water, tying knots on a piece of string with his feet. He said it was good practice to get his toes as swift and flexible as his fingers, but Bates suspected he did it simply because he enjoyed using his feet for mundane tasks. 

“I will try,” he promised and got back to making tea. 

“You had better. We cannot afford to make Ms Possible suspicious. If you are unable to keep yourself under control, you should stay here by the camp,” Fiske said. He no longer had to look at his feet as they worked.

Bates only nodded. He didn’t want to remain alone when Fiske was risking everything with the American heroes. If something went wrong, he would have to be right there by his side. 

A few hours later, Fiske got up and started putting his shoes on, scowling uncomfortably in the process. Earlier he had told Bates that he felt like he was suddenly handicapped when he couldn’t use his feet like they were meant to. Bates wasn’t sure he quite got what the problem was since had been doing just fine even before the procedure, but he supposed this was something he would never understand. 

“It’s about time to meet Ms Possible. Hurry up. We shouldn’t be late,” Fiske said as he pocketed his watch and put on gloves to hide his hands from curious eyes. 

Bates grabbed the parasol he had bought when they had arrived at Cambodia. The heat was much more intensive than he had expected, and he had been able to persuade Fiske into getting the parasol by claiming that would add to the illusion of them as harmless. 

“I think you might ruin my reputation as an explorer with that thing, Bates,” Fiske remarked as they were walking towards the temple. 

Bates only glanced at his master, thinking back to how Fiske had said he no longer had a need for anything from his past life. And yet it was exactly his past achievements and status as a respected scholar that had made Kim Possible reply to their message so fast. Reputation was always important, and Bates hoped Fiske wouldn’t end up destroying his beyond repair. 

They arrived at the temple just about at the same time as Kim Possible and her sidekick, but the two hadn’t noticed them yet, giving them the chance to steal a look at them. 

Both of them were younger than Bates had been expecting. They looked barely old enough to be in high school. His mind was immediately filled with doubt. These two couldn’t possibly help them in any way. They would only get hurt and then they would all be in trouble. He had read reports of Kim Possible’s adventures once he had learnt that she would be assisting them, but this girl hardly looked like the capable hero from those stories.

Her sidekick was even less impressive. There was usually no mention of him in the reports, so Bates didn’t actually know what skills he had, but looking at him now, he would have said none. The poor boy was obviously having some sort of trouble and was making a scene, trembling and muttering something to himself. 

They’re just children, he thought. Fiske had been insane and irresponsible beyond belief to get them involved in this. 

“Kim Possible, I presume? I’m Lord Monty Fiske. This is my valet, Bates,” Fiske introduced them, bringing their presence to Kim’s attention.

She smiled and pointed at her companion. “This is my friend, Ron,” she said. 

Bates couldn’t help but point out what he had noticed earlier. “Your friend seems rather troubled.”

“Quite,” Fiske observed. 

Kim looked a little sorry. She told them a story of Ron’s traumatic experience involving an insane chimp at a summer camp. Bates wondered what had caused the sick twist of fate that they’d meet a monkey-phobic on this exact day. He glanced carefully at Fiske and could already see the first signs of a scowl on his face. Things hadn’t started well. 

“That was one crazy monkey!” Ron blurted out.

Fiske couldn’t keep his mouth shut any longer. “You do know, of course, that chimpanzees are actually part of the ape family. They’re not monkeys at all,” he said with a snide smile and a superior edge in his tone. 

“Monkey’s, apes! They all hold things with their feet, man! We’re talking about freaks of nature!” Ron snapped at Fiske’s face.

Bates shuddered at the cold look that came into Fiske’s eyes at that moment. He knew instantly that the name and face of this boy would forever be burnt into the man’s mind and that all chances of any sort of understanding between them had been shattered right now.

“Maybe we should take a look at the temple,” Fiske said in an insulted voice and promptly turned around to walk towards it. Bates hurried after him, glancing doubtfully back at Kim and Ron. She was scolding him for what he had said, but it didn’t seem like she was getting through to him. 

“Bad road!” Ron insisted, not realising that Fiske and Bates were still close enough to hear his every word. He grinned sheepishly. “Ah, Monty, old chap…”

“I believe I will direct all further communication to Ms Possible directly,” Fiske announced stiffly. Bates noted how tightly he had his hands clasped behind his back. If the success of their plan didn’t depend on Kim Possible, he was certain that Fiske would have given Ron a piece of his mind.

They went over the plan and revealed – much to Ron’s horror – that the statue they were looking for was of a monkey. Kim entered the temple to retrieve it, and the rest of them stayed outside to wait for her. 

Bates didn’t think he had often experienced such uneasy silences, and he was counting almost the entire duration of the family dinner after the funeral of Fiske’s father. Now it wasn’t simply a case of people who didn’t like each other being forced to breathe the same air, but there was much more at stake.

He saw how Fiske kept his eyes glued to the temple entrance to be able to catch the first glimpse of Kim when she returned. Ron was doing the same thing, and Bates mused that despite the mutual dislike between the two, they were both actually hoping for the same thing, Kim’s swift return.

“How long have you and Ms Possible been acquainted?” he asked Ron in order to break the silence. 

The boy turned to look at him in surprise, probably not having expected the valet to speak at all. His bafflement quickly turned into a smile.

“Oh, we go a long way back,” he said like it was something to be immensely proud of. “We’ve known each other since pre-school.”

“That might explain why someone of her calibre keeps you around,” Fiske remarked.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Ron asked. Some sort of naked rodent popped his head out of the boy’s pocket and made an angry sound. Bates lifted his brows at it but said nothing.

“Well, I wouldn’t put it past her that she keeps you around out of loyalty and guilt. For someone who supposedly helps her on her missions, you seem to have a rather astounding fear of the Pan troglodytes, among other things,” Fiske said, keeping his voice calm and regarding Ron with a look of pure contempt.

“I’m an important part of the team. I’ve helped her out on several separate occasions!” Ron insisted. 

“Yeah!” the rodent in his pocket added and showed his tongue at Fiske. 

“Ah, then I suppose it was merely a mistake that all the articles about her heroics fail to mention you at all,” Fiske said. 

Bates was just about to suggest that maybe they could talk about something less aggravating when the ground suddenly started vibrating, stopping Ron in the middle of an angry comeback. It wasn’t strong enough to even shake the temple, but they had to take instinctive steps to keep their balance. 

“Whoa, what was that?” Ron asked when it was over. 

“I fear that Ms Possible has triggered one of the traps in the temple,” Fiske said. Everyone turned their eyes back to the monkey’s mouth, but there was nothing to be seen. 

“Kim!” Ron seemed to forget his earlier fear of monkeys and made a dash towards the temple, but Fiske caught his shirt and pulled him back. 

“Hey! Let go! She could be hurt!” Ron yelled and did his best to fight against Fiske’s grip, but the man wouldn’t set him free. 

“The temple is unstable now. It would be insane to enter it!” Fiske snapped. 

“But what about Kim? We can’t leave her there,” Ron said, but ceased his struggle when he realised that he had no chance of winning. Fiske let him go and stepped back.

“Given her impressive résumé, I doubt one trap is enough to stop her,” he said.

“We don’t know what kind of trap it was,” Ron argued.

Fiske sighed in annoyance. “If she doesn’t show up soon, we’ll go inside and find the statue… and Ms Possible, of course.”

“For your sake I hope she does show up. We have powerful friends, and if something happens to her because of your insane monkey mission --” Ron started, but then everyone’s attention was drawn to the entrance where they could hear a scraping sound. 

“Kim!” Ron shouted and was the first to reach the girl. She seemed to be alright. Apart from looking a little ruffled and having dust and small scratches all over her she showed no signs of having just made it through a dangerous ancient temple all alone. 

And most importantly, she was holding the fourth jade monkey. 

Fiske face was so consumed by his excitement and happiness that Bates thought he might tear the statue off Kim’s hands and run away with it, laughing all the way. He did have enough self-control not to do that, but his eyes shone with such mirth that he looked giddier than ever before in his life. Thinking about the disappointment that would soon replace that smile made Bates want to shake his head. 

“Kim Possible, I shall see to it that the National Museum celebrates your heroic efforts,” Fiske praised as he clapped his hands together. 

“It was no big,” Kim said modestly, though it was obvious that she was also pleased with herself.

“We felt the ground shake. Did you find a trap?” Ron asked as they exited the temple. 

“Yeah, that was probably the moving walls. It made a pretty big boom when they crashed together,” Kim explained.

“It was a miracle that you made it out uninjured,” Fiske said. He was the one carrying the statue. His eyes were glued to those of the monkey, and he was holding it like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“Maybe you should have thought of that before sending her in,” Ron muttered under her breath. 

Kim turned to glare at him. “Ron, get a grip,” she whispered and shot a worried glance at Fiske’s direction, but the man was too charmed by the statue to notice anything else. 

“All I’m saying is that His Lordship was a little too happy to send you to danger in his place,” Ron said. 

“Most of our missions are dangerous. What makes this one different?” Kim asked and crossed her arms on her chest. 

“There’s something fishy about him, KP. I don’t trust him.” Ron refused to look her in the eyes, but he wouldn’t take back his accusation. Bates tried to keep his face neutral, but it was hard not to think about the worry that was gnawing at his insides. They had thought the sidekick would be no trouble at all, but he was turning out to be the real problem. His immense dislike for Fiske was only the result of his monkey phobia, but it made him distrust them. If he was convincing enough, he might be able to make his friend suspicious, too.

“Did something happen while I was in the temple?” Kim whispered to Bates. 

“I’m afraid your friend and His Lordship have developed some… major issues between them,” the valet responded. 

“Monkeys, huh?” Kim guessed. 

“You are correct, miss.” 

Kim smiled. “I’m sorry about Ron, but he means no harm. He just gets a little fixated on things sometimes.” 

Bates was more than familiar with that feeling. “You don’t have to convince me. Monkeys are Lord Fiske’s passion, and he tends to pass unfair judgement if someone doesn’t like them.” 

“Well, hopefully there won’t be any bad blood between us,” Kim said.

“I’m sure of that. Lord Fiske is very grateful for what you have done today,” Bates said. 

“No problem. I love helping out, especially if it benefits the museum.”

Bates couldn’t help but feel a guilty stab at the bottom of his stomach. She had risked her life to help them, believing that she was working for the common good and assisting a world-renown scholar in his work. Had she known that all of this was only an obsessed man’s little game, that admiration in her eyes whenever she looked at Fiske would certainly have been replaced by disappointment and anger.

“Excuse me, miss, but I need to discuss something with Lord Fiske,” he said. She only smiled reassuringly and went back to convincing Ron that there was nothing to be worried about.

Bates hurried to catch up with Fiske, who had taken some distance to the rest of them. “Is everything alright, milord?” he asked in a low voice. He glanced back to Kim and Ron, but the two seemed to be so caught up in their own conversation that they wouldn’t hear what they said. 

Fiske chuckled at him. “Of course! She found the statue. What could possibly be wrong?” 

“I think her companion might be trouble,” Bates said. After Fiske had scolded him for his nervous behaviour in the morning, it was ironic how he turned out to be the one to cause trouble because he couldn’t keep his feelings under control. 

Fiske’s eyes darkened. “Yes, that monkey-hater,” he muttered. “I despise people like him. He’s obviously an incompetent idiot who will never come to understand the sort of greatness I’m striving for.”

“It might be a good idea to simply ignore him, milord. It wouldn’t do to get into a heated argument with him and have him turn Ms Possible against us,” Bates suggested. 

“You may be right,” Fiske said, but his hateful expression didn’t lighten up at all. “I should have just let him run into the temple and get himself killed.”

Bates didn’t appreciate such morbid jokes, so he didn’t know what he could have possibly said to that. Fortunately for him, this was when they arrived at their camp and had to turn their attention to other matters. 

Fiske’s face melted into a polite smile as he whirled around to face Kim and Ron. “You’re both of course more than welcome to stay at our camp if you’re planning to stay for the night,” he offered. 

“No, thanks. We want to --” Ron started, but he was cut off by Kim.

“We’d love to. Our ride home doesn’t arrive until tomorrow morning,” she said, making Ron frown and huff to himself.

“Marvellous! Bates can cook us something later,” Fiske said happily. He went to take the statue to safety in their tent. 

“We don’t want to be trouble. We’ve got our own supplies,” Kim said as she took off her back bag and placed it to the ground.

“It’s no trouble at all, miss,” Bates assured her, even as he glanced worriedly at the tent into which Fiske had disappeared. Part of him was hoping that Ms Possible and her friend would just leave so that they wouldn’t have to risk everything with Fiske’s admittedly farfetched ninja plan.

***

“And that’s how I saved the Alaskan village from hungry polar bears,” Kim finished her tale of past adventures. 

Fiske looked suitably impressed with the story. “What a truly stunning accomplishment!”

“No big. Anyone could have made sleeping potion out of rare arctic herbs and tricked the bears into drinking it.”

Night had fallen, and they had made a campfire. It brought welcome light into the darkness that was lurking around the edges of their camp, but even more importantly, it had lightened up the strained atmosphere. They were all sitting around the fire, each holding something to drink, and telling each other stories of their past escapades. 

Or rather, Fiske and Kim were doing this. They both had more than enough adventures to share and were interested in what the other had to say. Ron chimed in occasionally when Kim forgot some detail or didn’t know what he had been doing during a particular mission, but this was always directed at her. He didn’t speak to Fiske or Bates at all.

Fiske was also doing a good job at ignoring the boy and talking to him only when it was absolutely necessary. Bates couldn’t understand how the two of them had managed to develop such a rivalry over a few misplaced words and opinions, but he was glad that they had decided to stay away from each other and not ruin everything. 

He wrapped his hands around his mug and enjoyed the smell of hot tea and burning wood. It was long since he had last seen Fiske smiling like this and so cheerfully sharing his adventures with someone. It was very tempting to forget that it was all an act to trick Ms Possible. Just for a moment he would have liked to believe that it was genuine and that everything was like it had once been.

And yet he couldn’t help but grow increasingly nervous the later the night became. Fiske’s plan would soon be set into motion and the relative harmony in the camp would break. He was desperate to enjoy those last few moments of peace, so he pushed his worry to the back of his mind and tried to concentrate on listening to the story Fiske was telling. 

“After we had survived the poisonous arrows, the next room turned out to have a set of trap doors on the floor. We were only able to navigate past them because we realised that the tiles were arranged so that they matched an ancient Hindu legend. After that it was easy to find the tomb,” Fiske said. 

“Oh, so it was you who discovered the mummy of King Dhrutarasha. I didn’t know that,” Kim said. 

“And I didn’t know that archaeology was that exciting,” Ron pointed out suspiciously. 

Fiske shot an annoyed glare at him. “Well, it usually isn’t, but spending the whole day brushing sand off something that may or may not be important doesn’t make for good stories,” he snapped. “Besides, I enjoy exploring, so I use every chance I get.”

“If you’re such a great explorer, how come you needed our help to get the statue?” Ron challenged. 

“Ron! Didn’t we already discuss this?” Kim hissed at him.

“No, it’s a good question, and I’m delighted to answer it. I was injured and broke my hand on my last expedition. I’m not quite yet ready to go back to work, but I didn’t want to keep this temple waiting. If I learned of its location, thieves could also. I hope this satisfies your curiosity,” Fiske explained.

Ron grumbled something to himself, but didn’t bring up the topic again. Bates almost felt sorry for him. The boy’s suspicions were justified, after all, but everyone was treating him like he was paranoid. 

“Oh, look at the time. It might be a good idea to turn in for the night,” Fiske said all of a sudden after a quick look at his pocket watch. 

“You’re right. I didn’t even notice it,” Kim said in surprise. She put her mug aside and started taking out her sleeping bag. Fiske had offered them their extra tent, but Kim had declined, saying that she and Ron were used to sleeping out in the open. It would make stealing the statue a tad more problematic, but it wasn’t enough to change Fiske’s mind about it.

They had agreed that they wouldn’t speak a word to each other once they were inside their tent. Bates supposed Fiske was afraid of him accidentally letting something slip, which would have been fatal now that Kim and Ron were sleeping outside. He therefore had to swallow his worries when he watched how Fiske pulled on his black ninja garb, careful to hide his own clothes under it so that he could throw the costume away as soon as he was done.

And then Fiske slipped silently outside. He had insisted on doing everything as if the thief was someone from the jungle, so he had refused to take the statue with him right away. Bates could only sigh at his master’s stubbornness and hope that his own trick wouldn’t turn around to bite him in the end. 

He could hear Kim and Ron discussing something in low voices outside, but he wasn’t interested in eavesdropping on them. He kept wringing his hands in worry and tried to avoid looking at the jade monkey. It was unnerving to be alone in the tent with it.

He was so concentrated on being worried that he was actually startled when Fiske came back into the tent, just as silently as he had exited it. He shot one glance at his valet before snatching the jade monkey and slipped back outside.

Bates was just about to relax and sigh in relief when he heard a shout from the outside, soon followed by sounds of battle. Fiske had been caught! His almost ran outside to see what was going on, but at the last moment he pulled his hand away from the tent entrance. Revealing that he was in on this would have accomplished nothing. There wasn’t anything he could have done to help Fiske. 

Something smashed against him and sent him stumbling back.

“Out of the way, you fool!” Fiske snapped at him, tossed the jade monkey into his sleeping bag, tore the ninja garb off and rushed back outside before Bates had even realised what had happened. He rushed after his master as soon as his feet obeyed him again. 

“What’s all this, then?” Fiske asked in a bewildered tone.

“Someone stole the jade monkey,” Kim admitted. 

“How shockingly awful!”

“Yes, awfully shocking, milord,” Bates said. He glanced at their surroundings and noted the partly fallen extra tent where their supplies were and how there were signs of struggle on the ground. He would have to ask Fiske for details later.

Fiske paced back and forth with an angry and thoughtful frown on his face. “Word of our discovery must have gotten out! Oh, rot. If only your bravery wasn’t wasted,” he lamented.

Kim slammed her palm into her hand in equal irritation. “I was so close. I almost had him.” 

“Well, you know ninjas, KP. Always with nasty tricks up their sleeve,” Ron said as he climbed out of his sleeping bag. 

“What’s this about a ninja?” Fiske asked. “Why would there be a ninja here?”

“I don’t know. It makes no sense,” Kim muttered. Then she sighed as her shoulders slumped. “I’m really sorry, Lord Fiske. It’s my fault that the statue was stolen.”

Fiske brushed her apology off with one wave of his hand. “Not at all! You did everything in your power to protect it.”

“Maybe we could still catch him if we went after him,” Kim suggested. She turned to look at the rainforest around them with a contemplative look in her eyes, but Fiske quickly tore down this idea. 

“Absolutely not!” he said. “Who knows what could happen? I cannot allow you to risk your life any further because of one dusty statue! Let’s just go back to sleep. I will worry about this from now on.”

Kim gave in with a defeated sigh and returned to her sleeping bag.

“Don’t worry, KP. It wasn’t your fault,” Bates heard Ron say just as he and Fiske returned into their tent.

***

There was a strained atmosphere over them the next morning when they were saying goodbye to each other. Kim and Ron’s ride back home would arrive at any minute while Fiske and Bates would hike to the closest town and then take a bus to the airport. 

The faintest dark rings could be seen under Kim’s eyes. Bates guessed she had spent most of the night awake, feeling guilty and cursing herself for letting the ninja escape. She probably didn’t fail very often and obviously didn’t like the unfamiliar feeling. 

“I must apologize again,” she said to Fiske. “It’s all my fault that your discovery was lost.”

Fiske smiled gently at her and shook his head. “Oh, stop worrying, Ms Possible. These things happen, and this isn’t the first time something is stolen right under my nose. And technically speaking, I only asked you to retrieve the statue, which you did. I never said anything about protecting it,” he said. 

“True, but I can’t help but feel guilty. If I had just had a few seconds more, I would have gotten him.”

“Hey, I think our ride is coming!” Ron pointed out as the sound of a distant helicopter reached their ears. 

“I have a friend who has access to every database in the world. I’ll ask him to look into this statue. Maybe he can find out why it was stolen in the first place,” Kim said. 

Fiske’s smile wavered a little with the faintest hint of worry. “Oh, don’t bother yourself with that. I’ll ask my colleagues to help me with this. You should only concentrate on your future missions,” he quickly said. 

The helicopter was now hovering above them and a rope ladder was thrown down. Ron climbed in first, but Kim stopped to thank Fiske and say goodbye to them. The man waved farewell at her.

As the deafening sound of the helicopter grew more and more distant, Bates became aware of a different sound. Only when he turned to look at Fiske and his shaking shoulders did he realise that the man was laughing like had just heard the best joke in his life.

“Those fools!” he barked. “They believed everything I told them!” He threw off his gloves and brought his hands to his head, as if he couldn’t believe it how ridiculously easy it had been. His laughter grew higher and higher until Bates thought he was sounding more like an ecstatic monkey than a man.

He swallowed and decided to just wait in silence until Fiske’s fit had passed and he had returned to normal. 

After a while, Fiske’s laughter died to chuckling and he shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Let’s pack our things and get going. We have a long way home,” he said and started marching back towards their camp with excitement marring his features. 

“Very well, milord,” Bates agreed, disappointed that Fiske had returned to his obsessed self so soon. His act of an honourable and polite gentleman had been all too convincing and a painful reminder of the past.

***

The next few days turned out to be a catastrophe. When they reached the nearest town, they were presented with the news that that they couldn’t take the bus to the city because a landslide had destroyed the road. Fiske refused to wait until it would be fixed, so they had to spend two agonizing days walking to the city. When they arrived there, they had already missed their flight spectacularly and had to wait another two days for the next one. By the time they finally made it home, it was already Saturday and they had wasted half a week of their time being stuck at various points of the journey. 

“Tea. Now,” Fiske commanded as he collapsed into his armchair. He had spent all his energy ranting and raving about the injustice of the world and cursing the fact that he was delayed from fulfilling his destiny, so he had actually grown tired of that some time before they had arrived. There were no more words.

“Of course, milord,” Bates said, though he was equally tired and would have loved nothing more than falling into his bed and sleeping two days in a row. 

Being back home after such an ordeal should have been a relief to him, but his mind kept going back to the jade statues and what Fiske would soon attempt. It would fail, of course, and the man would have to face a massive disappointment. Now that Fiske barely had anything else in his life, the blow of having it all taken away from him would hit him hard. 

I suppose I will just have to remain strong by his side, he decided as he finished making the tea.

He heard Fiske’s impatient call even before he entered the lounge. The man had changed into his usual smoking jacket and had taken the statue downstairs to the secret room. 

“You know, milord, I do wonder if it might have been a mistake to call in Kim Possible,” he said, thinking back to Kim’s parting words. If she looked too closely into the matter, she might realise what was really going on. 

Fiske grinned at him. “Nonsense. The plan worked perfectly. She retrieved the item, didn’t she?” he asked slyly. 

Well, that was true, but Bates couldn’t help but think they had taken unnecessary risks. If Kim ever discovered what had really happened, Fiske’s career and reputation would be truly lost. 

“Milord could have handled those primitive booby traps,” he pointed out. Maybe it was because he was tired or because worry was tying his insides into a knot, but somehow he stumbled on the carpet and went flying on the floor. 

Oh, no! The fate of the tea service was his first thought, but the crash he was fearing never happened. 

“And risk injuring these hands?” Fiske demanded of him in fury. When Bates picked himself up from the floor, he saw that Fiske had managed to save the service. The new hands and feet had proved their usefulness yet again.

“Besides,” Fiske continued in a much calmer tone as he poured himself some tea, “by masquerading as the ninja, I threw suspicion off me.” Before Bates had the chance to react in any way, the man had hurled the tea service to the other side of the room where it shattered into dozens of pieces. 

Bates cringed at the sound. Thankfully it hadn’t been a family heirloom, but senseless vandalism was idiotic, especially since he was the one who would have to clean up the mess. 

“You know best, of course, milord,” he said, deciding that it was for the best to just go along with Fiske’s quirks for the time being. 

They retreated into the secret room. Bates went to take a closer look at the jade monkey while Fiske changed into his martial arts garb. The statue was staring up at him with lifeless eyes, but something in its grin made Bates shiver. 

“Stunning in its monkeyosity,” he remarked, careful not to touch the statue. 

“It is magnificent. And now Mystical Monkey Power will be mine!” Fiske said in triumph. 

Here we go again, Bates thought. “You mean that figuratively, of course, milord?”

“What’s that, Bates?” Fiske asked. 

Bates had to glance to his side before he could face Fiske’s eyes. “Well, to truly believe that old myth would be crazy, eh?” he asked. He knew what Fiske would say, but he had to keep trying. Very soon the disappointing truth about the statues would be known to Fiske as well, and if there was any way Bates could make the fall less painful, he would do it. 

Fiske’s eyed widened in shock at these outrageous words. “Crazy, you say?” he asked. “Like it was crazy to spend the family fortune on radical genetic mutation and dangerous experimental surgery? Like it was crazy to become a man-monkey who violates every law of nature and science?” he ranted as he worked up his anger until Bates was certain he would be fired again. 

Yes would have been the answer to Fiske’s question, but he barely dared to think it, not to mention say it. 

“It’s a touch unconventional,” Fiske mused as he suddenly calm down like nothing had ever happened.

And then he charged at him without warning and brought his hand up to Bates’s throat. The valet was no expert, but even he realised that Fiske could crush his windpipe in a second if he wanted to. But surely he wouldn’t; it was insane that he was even thinking about it. 

“And now, put the magic monkey in place!” Fiske hissed.

It was for the best to obey without a word, so Bates swiftly turned around and went to pick up the statue. Though Fiske’s fingers had never actually touched his throat, he felt like he had to rub a burning spot.

He was threatening me, he realised with dread. Never in his life had he had to be afraid of anything at Castle Fiske, but now he found his hands shaking as he handled the jade monkey. Did Fiske’s obsession with the statues go so far that he would hurt others to get what he wanted? Surely not. 

“Excellent!” Fiske said and clapped his hands together when Bates had placed the statue on its spot among the three others. “Now I only need to step into the circle and receive the power!”

“Do you want to do it right away?” Bates asked.

Fiske closed his eyes and drew a deep, ecstatic breath. “No, not yet,” he decided. “I want to savour this feeling so that I’ll always remember it. How about another cup of tea?” 

“You destroyed the tea service, milord,” Bates pointed out. 

“Then use another one! I’ll be in the lounge,” Fiske said and started going back up. Bates didn’t want to be left alone with the jade statues, so he quickly hurried after his master. 

This day can’t possibly get any worse, he thought as he was making more tea. He almost hoped that Fiske would simply step in the middle of the statues already so that it could be over with and the tension would break. Then he would only have to worry about the massive fit Fiske would no doubt have in his disappointment, but that was the first step back towards normalcy. 

“Finally. What exactly took so long?” Fiske asked when Bates returned to the lounge with another tea service. This time he had picked an old one. 

“It takes time to boil water, milord,” he said calmly.

“I think it’s about time that --” Fiske started as he took a cup, but he was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.

“Now who could that be?” Bates wondered as he glanced worriedly at Fiske. 

“Whoever it is, they will regret bothering me on this day,” the man muttered as he was putting gloves on to hide his hands.

Bates didn’t know what he was expecting when he opened the door, but it certainly wasn’t Ms Possible and her friend.

“Kim Possible!” he blurted out in surprise. Had they realised what had really happened and come to confront Fiske about it? 

But Kim only smiled. “Nice to meet you again, Bates. We just have a few questions for Lord Monty Fiske,” she said, no signs of threat on her face or in her voice.

“I shall announce your presence,” Bates said. He let the two in and led them through the hall to the lounge. He tried to calm down his nerves as they walked past the grotesque paintings, but the feeling of impending doom had taken over his heart. They were on the edge now, and the smallest nudge could make them fall. It all depended on whether Fiske would be able to satisfy their curiosity.

Lord Fiske was sitting in his armchair when they arrived. He frowned when he saw who their guests were, but this was quickly covered by a smile. 

“Kim Possible and your monkey-phobic friend. How delightful,” he said as he sneered down at the two.

“Sorry to bother you, Lord Fiske, but we wanted to ask you some questions about --” Kim started but was cut off when something suddenly seemed to snap in Fiske’s head. 

“So, you know all about it? About my obsession with Tai Shing Pek Kwar?” he demanded of them, now with ire in his words. He went to pull the candlestick to reveal the entrance to the secret room.

“Say again?” Ron muttered.

“Oh, playing stupid, I see,” Fiske mocked them. Bates could only stare at him in shock, no voice coming out of his mouth. What in the world was the man doing? He could have easily dodged whatever questions the duo had and sent them off! There was no need to reveal anything!

“Tai Shing Pek Kwar! Monkey kung fu!” Fiske snapped. When he still got no reaction out of Kim and Ron, he groaned in frustration and started going down the stairs.

“Is it just me, or is he walking funny?” Ron asked Kim before they followed Fiske. 

Bates hesitated for just a moment, his instincts telling him to get away when he still had the chance but his loyalty demanding him to stand by Fiske’s side during the disaster that was sure to follow in a few minutes. He stopped to stare in shock when he arrived at the room, just in time to see Fiske showing his bio-engineered hands and feet to the stunned crime-fighting duo.

Has he gone entirely insane, he wondered. This was ludicrous! He glanced at Kim and Ron to see their reaction. Maybe everything could still be saved. Maybe he could explain that Lord Fiske was very tired after the long trip from Cambodia, and –

Suddenly there was a bright flash of light that made Bates turn his eyes away for a split second. When he looked again, the sight made his jaw drop and captured all the air in his lungs so that he couldn’t let out a sound. 

What madness is this, he thought numbly as he watched how Fiske floated in the air, surrounded by golden light and cackling maniacally until he finally landed back on the floor. His features were twisted but not only because of the furious grimace on his face. It looked like he had suddenly become a sick abnormity who was more like a monkey than a man.

“I am Monkey Fist!” Fiske announced to them, pounding his chest for emphasis. 

The Mystical Monkey Power! It couldn’t be, and yet Bates didn’t know what else could have explained what he had just seen and what Fiske had suddenly become. He knew it wasn’t a parlour trick. He had himself helped Fiske repair this room. But people couldn’t just fly in the air like that! Magic didn’t exist! It couldn’t be real, it just couldn’t! 

He tried to clutch at this one desperate thought that was the only thing keeping his world together, but he felt all rational pillars of his life crumble to bits as he looked at Fiske, the insane gleam in his eyes and the four jade monkeys that stood on their places, mocking him with their grins. 

Good Heavens, he thought. It was all true after all. Fiske had been right all this time. 

He was brought back from his shock by a loud crack. It took him a moment to understand what was going on, but then it dawned to him that Fiske had tried to attack Ms Possible – why would he do that, he thought – but that something had gone wrong and Fiske had crashed against the wall. 

“You’re the holo-Kim!” Ron realised.

“What? Then where is the real Kim Possible?” Fiske asked as he picked himself up from the floor.

Ron looked around in panic. “She, uh… She’s coming shortly! No monkey tricks!”

Fiske shook his head to clear his thoughts after the hit he had taken and grinned mischievously at the boy. “Ah, I see your friend is not here to help you. It is only the two of us. So, monkey-hater, we meet again.”

He crouched like he was about to jump at the boy, but just then they could hear the gentle sound of the chime he had installed. Fiske crossed his legs under him and sat down in a lotus position, his face relaxing. 

“Serenity chime. Time to centre,” he said. 

Ron was slowly backing away towards the stairs. Bates didn’t know if he should have let the boy pass or not. He had seen so much that he could easily ruin Fiske’s life if he were to tell anyone about what had happened. The valet wasn’t sure what they could do about that, but at the very least they would have to talk to Ron and make him promise he would keep the secret.

“Monkey kung fu is half mental,” he explained to clear the boy’s confusion, but he didn’t do a very good job at it. 

“Completely mental in this case!” Ron yelped and shoved him aside as he ran for the stairs. 

Bates was about to yell after him and ask him to come back, but there was another chime and Fiske jumped at his feet.

“He has escaped, milord,” Bates said.

“After him!” Fiske commanded, and Bates had no chance but to obey. They did have to talk sense into the boy, after all, before he could ruin everything by spreading exaggerated tales of what he had seen. 

“What are we going to say to him?” Bates asked.

“Asking if he has any last wishes might be sufficient,” Fiske snarled.

Bates wanted to think that Fiske was merely joking, but his face was dead serious and he looked like he would never laugh again in his life. The man’s shoulders were hunched and he was leaping around on all fours, fury darkening his eyes as if he was a predator gaining on a helpless prey. 

He wouldn’t really hurt the boy, would he?

“What exactly did those statues do to you, milord?” he asked, but Fiske only growled and waved at him to be silent. The man slit his eyes as he glanced around the dark hallways, his nostrils flaring as he tried to locate Ron’s whereabouts. The labyrinth of corridors, secret entrances and dead ends that was Castle Fiske would eventually work in their favour. They knew their way around, but Ron was probably already lost in the maze. 

“There!” Fiske decided and dashed to their right. Bates followed him as swiftly as he could, but he was no match for the man. Fiske moved around like an ape, jumping off the walls and furniture on his way. 

They arrived at a dead end just in time to see Ron disappear into a secret hallway he had to have discovered by accident. Fiske stopped abruptly and turned back. 

“This way! I know where he is going!” he said.

“Milord, shouldn’t we all just calm down?” Bates asked. 

Fiske stopped at his tracks and turned around to glare at him. The inhuman rage in his eyes made Bates retreat a step and sent shivers down his back. This was not Lord Fiske he was dealing with. It was a madman and there was no telling what could happen. Fiske was obviously not thinking straight anymore. 

“Calm down?” he raged. “He has learnt of my secret! He must be dealt with before he reveals it to the entire world! I will not let anyone step in my way and live!”

What about me, Bates wanted to ask, but he didn’t have the courage to do so. 

With a mere growl, Fiske returned to the chase and disappeared behind a corner. Bates followed him, more reluctantly this time. He no longer had any idea about what he should do. Following Fiske’s orders had been the easiest and most logical option for his entire life, but now he found himself wondering if it wouldn’t only lead to more trouble. 

Hunting down an innocent boy who had never done anything but been in the wrong place at the wrong time was obviously an immoral thing to do. After he had seen Fiske’s fury, Bates could no longer blindly believe that he only wanted to talk to Ron, but the idea of him doing something to hurt the boy was just as incomprehensible. Fiske had never been violent. He had always solved most of his problems by negotiating, tricking or bribing people. 

But he hadn’t been himself lately. He had grown more and more unstable over the past months. Bates had tolerated it because he had thought there was nothing he could do without betraying Fiske’s trust, and he had also assumed that nobody else would ever seriously be affected by it. He didn’t care that much about himself. It was part of his duties to endure whatever eccentrics his master came up with. 

This, on the other hand… The boy was innocent, but… Bates hated himself for it, but some part of him was ready to sacrifice Ron. After all, he was only a young, insignificant adventurer. What did he matter compared to Fiske’s life and accomplishments that would crumble if nothing was done? The world wouldn’t care if Ron Stoppable ceased existing, but many important people would feel the blow of losing Lord Montgomery Fiske. Then again, Ron was no doubt loved by family and friends. Fiske not so much. 

His thoughts were brought to an abrupt end when he entered the next room and discovered that Fiske and Ron were already both there. The boy was cowering in the corner while Fiske was basking in his victory, ready to attack his victim at any minute. 

Maybe he should let Fiske decide what to. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about making the right decision. He wouldn’t be responsible for anything other than turning a blind eye to what was happening. But wasn’t that just as bad? The blood would be on his hands as well, and he didn’t really want to let Fiske ruin himself by doing something like this. 

Suddenly another hologram figure appeared by Ron’s side. The two talked shortly about something that made absolutely no sense to Bates, and this was only interrupted by Fiske’s impatient attack. Through some miracle Ron was able to dodge this and run past him, a new determined look having replaced the fear in his eyes. 

“He’s heading for the jade statues!” Fiske realised and rushed after him, shoving Bates aside in his hurry. The valet stumbled back and leaned against the wall to keep his balance. He felt like there was nothing he could do to control the situation, so he only followed the others downstairs.

What he had to face there was yet another surprise twist. Now the boy had also subjected himself to Mystical Monkey Power. Bates held his breath as the two engaged in battle, wondering if the magic would affect Ron the same way it had affected Fiske and if he would also become a raving lunatic. Maybe all of this was caused by magic. 

To his disappointment, Ron’s movements were calculated and he knew exactly what he was doing. He was less polished and a little clumsy compared to Fiske, who had practised Tai Shing Pek Kwar almost his entire life, but Fiske was letting his anger control himself. He made mistakes and took unnecessary risks. Ron had no trouble dodging his blows and responding to them.

Seeing his master in trouble like that helped Bates make up his mind. He knew he was going to regret it later, but he pushed the guilty thought away as he picked up a weapon that had been left lying on the ground – to be honest, he didn’t even know what it was or how it was supposed to be used, but it was better than his spare hands. 

He would help Fiske take down Ron, and then they could all calm down and – 

Ron’s hairless pet put a stop to this plan. Bates didn’t seriously consider the animal any sort of threat, so he tried to scare him out of the way. “Away with you, you vile rodent!” he snapped and attempted to stomp on Rufus, but the rat was much too swift for him. A few kicks and two bites later Bates found himself lying helplessly on the ground, too stunned to even realise what had happened. Where had the rodent learned moves like that?

From his position it was a little difficult to follow the fight, but it looked like Fiske had managed to gain the upper hand after all. His foot was holding Ron’s ankle firmly and he had the boy pressed to the floor under him. One blow and Ron’s neck would break. Bates found he couldn’t breathe as he watched this and anticipated Fiske’s next move. Their entire future depended on what he would do.

“Mystical Monkey Power or not, you have no chance against a master of monkey kung fu!” Fiske taunted his victim, but Ron didn’t seem frightened at all. 

“That’s why I’m pulling the plug! Rufus, search and destroy!” he yelled.

The pink rodent flashed past Bates and climbed up the pedestal on which the first statue was standing. He delivered two kicks and sent the monkey flying to the floor. Only Fiske’s quick reflexes were able to save it, but that did nothing to improve the situation. Another statue fell to a certain doom before Fiske had properly got to his feet from saving the first one.

“That’s quite enough! Stop it this very instant! I insist!” he pleaded in panic as he desperately tried to save the statues. It was like all rage had suddenly left him and been replaced with fear for his life, and he pitifully dashed from one pedestal to another, attempting to stop Rufus from taking away what he had wanted so much and had had for such a short while. 

Finally, he had all four in his arms. “I saved them all! Mystical Monkey Power will still be mine!” he declared in utter relief.

“Monkey this, you hairy freak!” Ron snapped. He leapt into the air and delivered a sharp kick right to the target. Fiske flew sprawling to the floor, his precious statues breaking into pieces. He moaned but didn’t get up. 

“What did you do to him?” Bates demanded as soon as he had got up on his feet. He hurried to Fiske’s side, relieved to find a pulse and discover that the man was merely unconscious. Maybe that was for the better. He would die if he saw what had happened to the statues. 

“What? Why are you looking at me like _I’m_ the villain here? In case you missed, he tried to snap my neck!” Ron said. “I so knew he couldn’t be trusted.”

The reality of everything that had happened suddenly dawned on Bates. Now that things had calmed down and Fiske was no longer pulling the strings, it felt like everything that had taken place only moments ago had been nothing but a surreal nightmare. He couldn’t believe what Fiske had done.

Ron pulled out a cell phone from his pocket. “I’m calling the cops, so no more tricks.” 

Bates had no intention of attacking the boy, not after he had seen what he had done to Fiske, but he couldn’t just let him ruin everything like that. “Maybe we can talk about this. Lord Fiske will of course compensate whatever --” he started, but Ron’s disbelieving look silenced him. 

“Yeah, as if! He’s a hairy freak accident waiting to happen! He needs to be locked up!” he snapped.

“But…” Bates didn’t know what to say. He knew that Ron was right, but it was a truth that he couldn’t bring himself to accept. He glanced sadly at Fiske and wondered what they would do from now on. Everything was gone, the man’s reputation, his career. Whatever friends he still had would probably never speak to him again. Maybe he would lose his will to live after this.

On the other hand, maybe the harsh reality would help snap Fiske out from his obsession and make him see just how insane all of this had been. By calling the authorities, Ron was doing what probably had been Bates’s responsibility from the beginning. Maybe it was for the best. 

He glanced guiltily at Ron as the boy spoke on the phone. Shame washed over him as he recalled how he had been willing to sacrifice Ron’s life just to protect something that had already been lost a long time ago. He didn’t know if he could ever make up for it, but he knew there was something to be said and that Fiske would never in his life say it. 

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

Ron turned to look at him in surprise. “That’s easy to say now,” he said, but most of his anger seemed to have disappeared. He hesitated a moment and then nodded at Fiske. “He needs help, you know.”

Bates did, but he couldn’t bring himself to think about that now. He felt tired all of a sudden and wanted nothing more than to curl up to sleep somewhere and forget that any of this had ever happened. 

“He wasn’t always like this,” he pointed out.

Ron cringed like he had tasted something bad. “Yeah, I know. Kim made me watch this documentary about him after we got home from Cambodia. To make me trust him, I guess,” he said. He looked at Fiske’s unconscious form for a while before he continued, “Good thing I don’t let my instincts be fooled that easily.”

“What do you get out of this anyway? I wouldn’t think that serving an insane lunatic is the best job in the world,” Ron asked then. 

“I’m only fulfilling my duties. I have served in this castle all my life, and it’s my responsibility to follow the orders of my master,” Bates said, partly to make himself feel better about all this, but it crumbled to dust after Ron’s next words.

“Even if it means helping him kill someone?” the boy asked. 

Bates didn’t think there was anything else to be said. He had no idea what he should have done. He felt like he was a stranger at his own home. Time seemed to have slowed down, and he was impatiently waiting for the police to arrive and break the horrible feeling of being imprisoned by his numb thoughts.

He was still in that same daze when the police finally arrived and started taking them away. He didn’t resist. All he could do was wonder how things could have gone so horribly wrong.


	17. Chapter 17

The next few days would always remain foggy and unfocused in Bates’s memory. He was barely aware of how he was taken to a cell at the police station and made sit alone for hours with nobody to talk to. He had no idea what they had done to Fiske or what would happen to him, and being with no company left him no chance to escape the thoughts that wanted to come and haunt him. 

That fiasco at the castle should have never happened, he thought gloomily. He should have done something to stop it, but what options had he had? He was no match for Fiske. What could he have done? He hadn’t realised how obsessed Fiske had become or how far the man was willing to go in his pursuit of his destiny. Or maybe he had. He just hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself because it would have required him to do something. He hadn’t wanted to take Fiske away from the world he had built for himself because it would have hurt him too much. 

He had been a little selfish, too. He had spent all his life serving at the castle, and he was so used to living alone with Fiske that he didn’t know what else he could do with his life. Maybe his reluctance to do anything had been partly motivated by his own fear of change.

All the facades had been torn down now, and he would just have to learn to deal with it. The truth about Fiske’s mental state would come to light, the two of them would be revealed to be criminals, the family name would be tainted, and everything would be lost. Bates doubted Fiske would care about any of this. He would only mourn the broken statues and the dreams that had shattered into pieces with them. 

It would therefore be his responsibility to remain strong and take care of everything, but somehow Bates couldn’t find the motivation for it. What had happened at the castle had shaken him, and he now found himself wondering if it really was worth every sacrifice to stay by Fiske’s side. The man had gone insane, and very little of the Montgomery Fiske he knew and cared about remained. Even with the best help in the world, he would probably never return to that. Was Bates really willing to spend the rest of his life together with a madman who was capable of killing?

He also couldn’t ignore his own involvement in the events, even if it was a tempting option. He had gone along with Fiske’s plan and hadn’t done anything to help Ron when the boy had needed it. Now that Fiske wasn’t there to give him orders and he could think alone in peace, he found it hard to believe that he had so easily accepted his place as a pawn in Fiske’s game. 

I almost helped him take a life, he thought as guilt gnawed at him. He had almost turned into a monster. What would his late wife have thought of that? What would Margaret have said if her only brother had become a murderer? And how could he face her now when he knew how close it had been? 

He buried his face into his hands, grateful for the relative darkness in the cell. All his life there had been somebody to tell him what to do. Now he was all alone, and he hated every minute of it. If only – 

The door opened, letting in some pale electric light. Bates turned to look and blinked against the sudden brightness. 

A police officer was standing by the door. Bates wondered if they’d be transferring him to a proper jail now, or maybe they were going to interrogate him. He hadn’t really thought about what he’d say. The entire truth was probably the wisest option. 

“Follow me,” the officer told him.

Bates got up without a word and did exactly as the man said. He found he didn’t want to raise his eyes from the floor or speak to anyone. He felt like he was the worst kind of scum. To say that he was ashamed would have been a grave understatement.

He was led into a small interview room with a table and a few chairs around it. It had never occurred to him while watching the occasional detective series on TV, but being in such a setting was very unnerving, like he had been stripped of every good quality he had once had. He had never felt so out of place.

The detective on the other side of the table didn’t look very threatening, though that did nothing to kill the butterflies in Bates’s stomach. The man was probably a little younger than him, had brown hair that was starting to get grey around the temples and kept looking at him with eyes that made Bates want to confess to any crime they might accuse him of, simply because it was the right thing to do. 

“Alright, we’re just going to ask you a few questions about tonight,” the detective said. 

Bates nodded. He wondered if he should try to lie to protect Fiske, but he felt too intimidated to come up with anything. And what was the point anyway? Ron Stoppable had to have told them everything already. 

“Firstly, we’d like you to explain what happened in your own words,” he was told. 

Bates took a moment to consider where to start. He supposed he’d be asked more questions if he wasn’t specific enough, so he decided to focus on the more dramatic events. 

“I… I had just finished serving His Lordship tea when Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable arrived. They wanted to --” he started.

“But Kim Possible wasn’t there, was she?”

“No. I’m not sure I understand it, but I hear it was some sort of hologram,” Bates replied. 

“And did Lord Fiske know that?”

“No.” Bates didn’t want to say that they had only realised the truth when Fiske had tried to attack her, though the police probably knew that already. 

“Alright, go on.”

“They wanted to ask Lord Fiske some questions about a monkey idol that they had recently helped him acquire.” Bates stopped here for a moment, wondering how he could go on. The rest of the story was almost too unbelievable to be true. He knew he couldn’t possibly say anything about the Mystical Monkey Power.

“That’s when Lord Fiske took them downstairs where he has a dojo of sorts. He attacked them, probably because they had learnt the truth of how he had stolen the idol,” he said. 

“Did you know about the genetic alterations done on his hands and feet?” the detective asked. He was writing down something in a small notebook.

“Of course. I am his valet.”

“And you didn’t find it unsettling that he would do such a thing? Did you tell anyone about it?”

“I believe it’s a personal matter what a gentleman does in private.” 

The detective frowned at his remark, but surprisingly didn’t say anything. Bates realised that he had actually relaxed a little, and talking was a bit easier now. He had been expecting much harsher treatment from everyone. 

“What do you think were Lord Fiske’s intentions towards Ron Stoppable?” the man asked. 

Bates shifted uncomfortably at this. He knew what Fiske had tried to do, but could he really say it? Part of him still wanted to believe that the old Fiske might be coming back, but there’d be little chance of that if he was labelled a would-be murderer. On the other hand, they would certainly catch him if he lied, and then he wouldn’t be able to do much to help Fiske. Ron had to have told them what had really happened. If their stories matched –

“Answer the question.”

Bates avoided looking at the detective. “I believe Lord Fiske was not quite himself. He might have tried to harm the boy if he had had a chance,” he said with a heavy heart.

“Why do you think that?”

“He must have wanted to stop anyone from knowing about the monkey idols,” Bates said.

“So, you knew about them?”

“Yes. I helped him find them and bring them to England. We had excavation permission for the first one,” Bates said. 

“And the three others?”

“Lord Fiske acquired the second one without my assistance or knowledge. The other two… We didn’t quite follow the correct guidelines while retrieving them.”

Next the detective asked him to give detailed descriptions of in which countries and locations the last two statues had been found. Bates did so, and with each word it became easier to keep talking. By the time he was done explaining everything about Cambodia, he could almost say he wasn’t feeling guilty anymore.

This will help His Lordship in the long run, he thought to himself. A wound couldn’t start healing properly before it had been cleaned, no matter how painful it could be. 

Then came the question he had been dreading the most. 

“And what about this Mystical Monkey Power?”

“Well…” he started and trailed off. He realised it was harder for him to say that Fiske believed in magic than that he had tried to kill, probably because he had himself seen that Mystical Monkey Power was real. Fiske wasn’t insane in that regard, and yet that was exactly what everyone would believe.

“Lord Fiske took the old myth a tad too seriously, I’m afraid,” he said. He wondered what Ron had said about it. Surely the boy was intelligent enough to know that he couldn’t talk about magic to the police and expect to be taken seriously. 

The detective wrote down something again and made a low “Hmm”. Bates pressed his hands against his knees as he waited for more questions. They hadn’t yet asked him about his involvement in the events, but he was certain that it would soon follow. He didn’t know how he should answer. He himself wasn’t sure what had been going on in his head. It was as if the chase through the castle had been a dream. 

The detective stood up abruptly, making Bates blink in surprise. Would they be continuing on another day? Shouldn’t they at least let him know what charges he would be facing? 

“That’s about it. You can go,” the detective said.

For a while Bates could only stare at him in confusion. “What?” he finally managed. There had to be some kind of mistake. “I’m sorry, but I don’t really understand. Am I not arrested?”

“We aren’t going to keep you here for assisting Lord Fiske with illegal excavations. Charges for that will be pressed later. Your story about what happened at the castle matches with what Mr Stoppable has told us,” the detective told him.

“But --” Bates started, but he was almost pushed out of the interrogation room, like they wanted to get rid of him for some reason. “What about everything else?”

The detective’s eyes darkened for a brief moment, but he was back to normal in a snap. “We already know what happened,” he simply stated. 

Not understanding anything that was going on, Bates wandered to the reception room. He hadn’t been imprisoned for that long, but he felt like he had been away for years and that the world around him had suddenly changed. It was like he was looking at everything with new eyes now. 

He had been so focused on having been arrested that he now didn’t know what he should have done. They had been taken to the closest city because the town near the castle was too small to even have an active police force. He would need a taxi to get back home. If he wanted to go there, that was.

The officer who had let him out of the cell came to gave him his things that had been taken from his person upon the arrest. It wasn’t much, only coins, a comb and whatever junk he had stuffed into his pockets on their trip back from Cambodia. 

He noticed a vending machine in the corner and realised that he hadn’t eaten anything since the flight. He was too worried and confused to really feel hungry, but he had scolded Fiske so many times about forgetting to eat that he couldn’t do anything but follow his own advice. 

“Not a bad choice, you know, but they really aren’t spicy enough,” a familiar voice said as he was getting himself a bag of peanuts.

Bates whirled around, coins falling from his hand and scattering all around the floor. It took him a moment to find his voice again, but when he finally did, there was only one thing for him to say. 

“You!” he blurted out when he found himself face to face with Ron Stoppable. What was the boy doing here? Bates hadn’t thought he would ever meet him again. 

Ron rubbed the back of his neck. “They wouldn’t let me go until I had answered all their questions, and even then I had to wait until a contact from London arrived. Man, you Brits are really uptight sometimes,” he said as he pushed his way past Bates to choose something from the vending machine.

Bates tried to think of something to say, but his mind was entirely empty. What could he possibly say to this young man after he and Fiske had tried to kill him? Ron would no doubt hate them forever, and he had every right to do so. 

“Do you know where Lord Fiske is?” he finally asked. 

Ron’s eyed darkened at the man’s name and he stopped in the middle of opening a soda can. “No, but I hope he’s going to stay there for a long time.”

“I would say that’s my justified fate as well, but for some reason they have released me,” Bates said. 

Ron looked around to make sure nobody was listening to them. “The truth had to be twisted a little. I mean, if I had said anything about that Mystical Monkey Power mumbo jumbo, they would have probably locked me up, too. My contact helped me edit the story a little, so now we’re dealing with a somewhat different tale,” he explained. 

“I still do not see how that should affect my involvement. I have nothing to do with Mystical Monkey Power. I didn’t even believe in it until tonight,” Bates said. 

Ron looked thoughtful for a moment. “I kind of got that feeling,” he admitted. He thought over his words a little before he continued, “I don’t really know how big of a part you had in everything, but something tells me that you aren’t that bad. Not like Lord Fiske. Maybe I’m wrong, but it felt like half of it came as a surprise to you, too. I don’t know, I just went with my instincts and told the cops that you didn’t try to do anything.”

Bates had lost count on how many times he had been stunned to silence on that day. Part of him was relieved by Ron’s words, but an equal part felt terribly guilty for that he’d get off the hook that easily. It just wasn’t right. 

“Did they believe you?” he asked doubtfully. It was all a bit too smooth for his liking. 

Ron actually glanced at his side at this; there was something he didn’t want to or couldn’t tell. “My contact is part of a pretty large and important organization. He has influence,” he said.

“Thank you. I… don’t really know what else to say,” Bates said.

“You don’t have to say anything. Just make sure that freak doesn’t get out of control again,” Ron said, shuddering involuntarily. 

“I will see to it that Lord Fiske receives all the help available,” Bates promised. In his mind, he was already going through a list of good psychiatrists they knew. Maybe he’d visit Harley Street and see what the practices there had to offer. 

“ _And_ stays locked up,” Ron reminded him. 

“I truly am sorry for everything that happened. I didn’t realise His Lordship would go that far,” Bates said. But he should have, he knew. The signs had been all too clear.

Ron shrugged. “Well, it wasn’t exactly the first time some insane villain tries to kill me, but Kim is usually there to save my butt. Now that it’s over, it was actually kind of fun to be the hero for a change,” he said. 

“You aren’t upset?” Bates asked in bewilderment. He couldn’t quite grasp his mind around how calmly Ron seemed to be taking it, but maybe escapades like this didn’t really stand out in his life with Kim Possible. 

“I’m upset with _him!_ I never ever want to see that monkey freak again in my life, so you had better make sure he stays in line. Ugh, just how wrongsick was this whole thing?”

Ron’s watch made a sudden beeping sound and he turned to look at it like he had only now realised something. “Man, I have to start getting to the airport. I’ve got school on Monday!” 

He was already at the door when he turned back to look at Bates one more time. The valet hadn’t known him for a very long time, but even then the suddenly serious look on Ron’s face felt alien to him. 

Ron stepped outside with a wave of his hand. Bates could only stand still and stare after him for a while. The boy had every reason to loathe him, so it spoke well of him that he had had the patience to talk to him like that, without accusing him of anything. They both knew that Bates was guilty, and Ron had still decided to help him. For that Bates would always be grateful. 

Now it was time for him to start acting. He quickly took care of the proper procedures at the police station, filled in a few forms, gave them the phone number to the castle and asked when and where he could meet Fiske, if at all. He was told that they wanted to question the man at first but that he could come back a few days later. Bates supposed that was enough time for finding a good lawyer and gathering up the courage to meet Fiske face to face.

Before he even realised it, he had taken a taxi back to the castle and was standing by the large front door. He felt hesitant to enter, not knowing what he would find inside. The police had no doubt conducted a search inside to find out if Fiske had more illegal artefacts in addition to the jade monkeys. 

Even more importantly, his stomach turned at the thought of returning to where everything had happened and where he had almost become a murderer. Never going back was an equally frightening thought since the castle was the only home he had ever known in his life. He felt trapped by indecision. Would he ever be able to feel at home in the castle again?

Then he recalled how Ron had given him another chance, even though he had had no obligation to do so. The least he could do in return was bring some sense into this mess and make sure Fiske wouldn’t try to hurt anyone ever again.

***

The first thing Bates did after he had had a cup of tea was calling the family lawyer. Charles Hill had been taking care of the legal matters of the family for decades and was an excellent defence attorney. He wasn’t what Bates would have called a family friend, but he knew that the man could be trusted, and taking good care of his clients was a matter of honour for him. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but Lord Fiske requires your assistance at the moment,” he said once he had got through Hill’s secretary. 

“Has he finally agreed to write an official will?”

“I’m afraid he has got himself into bit of a trouble, sir.”

“Oh. What charges are we facing, then?”

“Attempted murder is probably on the top of the list,” Bates said. 

There was silence in the other end. 

“…I see. Just a moment. Let me cancel all my other appointments for the near future. Come see me tomorrow morning. I’ll have looked into all the available information by then,” Hill finally said.

Well, one thing was done. Bates felt a sense of relief as he put down the receiver. He would soon have to start looking into what would be the best therapy to get Fiske back on his feet, but that would have to wait until the legal matters had progressed a bit more.

Now it was just him and the empty castle. He had only taken a brief look at the lounge and Fiske’s room and study, but nothing was out of the ordinary. The police had been very professional when investigating the castle. 

Bates knew he would have to take a look at the secret room sooner or later, but the mere idea made him feel sick. That was where all the insanity had culminated, and he didn’t want to be reminded of that day’s events. 

Maybe another cup of tea first, he decided. After that he busied himself with taking away the pieces of the grandfather clock Fiske had broken during his chase with Ron. Then it was time to dust the lounge, after which he had a third cup of tea. While he was drinking, he realised that it would be a good idea to change Fiske’s bed sheets in case Mr Hill managed to get him off the hook somehow.

Night had fallen by the time he ran out of excuses. He briefly considered leaving the matter for the next day, but he supposed he couldn’t meet Mr Hill without all the facts. Lord Fiske would no doubt be curious about the fate of his secret dojo as well. 

The police had left the entrance open, so it stood out in the wall like a dark maw waiting to swallow him as soon as he took the first step down the stairs. He knew that there was nothing to be afraid of, especially now that the statues were gone, but he couldn’t stop his heartbeat from growing quicker as he reached the bottom of the stairs. He hastily switched on the light, not wanting to be alone in the dark.

Not much had changed in the room. The broken statues had been taken away as evidence and all the various weapons were also gone, but other than that it was impossible to tell that anything had happened. Bates walked over to the centre of the room where the pedestals for the statues stood empty and useless. Even though no magic was present anymore, he was careful not to step into the circle. 

His eyes were drawn to the spot where he had made up his mind and decided to assist Fiske in his fight against Ron. What had been wrong with him? How could he have ever thought that it would be a good idea to take someone down like that? The moment was a blur in his mind, and he doubted he had been thinking clearly. Maybe he had been so caught in the heat of the moment that he had instinctively done what had been right countless times before, helping Fiske. Now that it was all over and he had time to think, he knew that it had been the wrong choice. He was now prepared for what Fiske was capable of, so he doubted he could be dragged to the darkness that easily a second time. 

He would have liked to think that it had been the same with Fiske, that the man had only momentarily lost himself when everything had suddenly come crashing down around him. It would have provided him with the sense of security that he needed at the moment, but he couldn’t lie to himself like that. Something about Fiske had changed. All he could do was hope that good therapy would change him back.

Bates frowned at the monkey symbol on the floor and wondered if it wouldn’t be a good idea to paint over it. Fiske might heal quicker if there was nothing to remind him of the Mystical Monkey Power and dreams that had been lost. The valet promised himself that he’d do something about it later.

***

He met Mr Hill in his office the next day. It was a small, clean room where everything had its place and even the pens on the desk were organized alphabetically based on their colours. The lawyer himself was a small, dull man in his fifties, dressed in a dark suit with a grey tie that made Bates want to take it out for dusting. 

“I went to see Lord Fiske yesterday. They let me see him once I proved that I’m representing him. To be frank, he wasn’t interested in having lawyer at all, but your approval should be enough,” Hill said as he took some papers out of his suitcase and placed them neatly on the desk. 

“How was he doing?” Bates asked. He hadn’t been separated from Fiske for this long ever since the man had returned from China. Taking into consideration how he had had to watch his every word and move for the past months, being alone was almost therapeutic. 

Hill took off his glasses to polish them. “The man’s a wreck,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I’ll be very surprised if he can pull himself together in time for the trial.”

Old loyalty and protectiveness immediately flared up. “What was wrong with him?” Bates asked.

“That’s just the thing. I have no idea. I couldn’t get a single sensible sentence out of him. He kept babbling about some magic nonsense and wailing to himself about how his life was ruined. I’m willing to agree on the latter since there is no way we’re getting out of this clean, but the former doesn’t speak well of my client’s sanity,” Hill said. As he finished, he lifted a curious brow at Bates, urging him to explain what was going on.

“His Lordship has taken some of the old myths a tad too seriously,” the valet said. 

“I gathered that much, yes. We could use it to declare him insane and get a lighter sentence. Better yet, a mental institution instead of prison,” Hill mused, still working on his glasses though they were almost glimmering now. 

“I don’t think Lord Fiske would appreciate that,” Bates pointed out. 

“And I don’t think he’s in a situation that offers him many options.”

Bates frowned but remained silent. He knew that Hill would do what was best for Fiske, but at the moment it felt like every option they had would mean death to the man. He didn’t even want to imagine Fiske spending years of his life locked up somewhere, even if he did deserve it. 

“What are our chances, sir?” he asked, already feeling defeated. 

“Well,” Hill said as he put his glasses back on and picked up his pile of papers, “I think we can safely ignore the illegal excavations and smuggling of the jade statues. You had all the necessary permits for the first statue, so we can claim that you assumed they extended to the other three. Since they were all part of the same set and had practically no monetary value, I don’t think anything serious is going to come out of that.”

“It’s not those charges I’m worried about,” Bates said. 

“True. I will never understand what was going on in his head when he tried to strangle that boy. I always say that if you want to kill someone, do it efficiently and cover your tracks. But back to the main issue, insanity would be a suitable reason for his deeds. It also speaks in his favour that the instance wasn’t planned, so I doubt we have to be worried about life imprisonment. We could also claim that the stress of having just returned from a long trip had taken its toll on him,” Hill said.

“I’m sorry, but shouldn’t our claims be based on truth?” Bates asked. 

Hill glanced at him like he was an idiot. “No if the truth isn’t on our side,” he said. “Why don’t you just let me take care of the defence? In the meantime, you should pay a visit to Fiske and get him to talk. You’re the only one he trusts.”

Bates supposed that was the only way he could be useful in the current situation, so he said goodbye to Hill and took his leave as soon as the lawyer had given him a permit to visit Fiske. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear what Fiske would have to say or whether it would be beneficial for their cause at all, but he didn’t really have a chance. 

It was an odd feeling he was having. The thought of going to the prison and seeing Fiske after everything that happened made him shiver. As long as he didn’t have to face the man, all the problems and the grim truth felt distant somehow. He could almost pretend everything was well. At the same time he couldn’t wait to storm into the cell and make sure His Lordship wasn’t lacking anything and they were treating him right.

Only when he was being searched at the prison did it occur to him that maybe he should have brought some tea with him, but he quickly reasoned that visitors probably weren’t allowed to give the prisoners anything. Though his imagination wasn’t vivid enough to come up with anything wicked, he was sure that much could be done with a simple thermos filled with liquid. And they most likely served tea at the prison anyway. Criminals had human rights, too, after all.

He wasn’t allowed to meet Fiske in his cell, but he was led to a small room where they could talk in relative privacy. The guard told him that everything they said would be recorded just in case, but Bates was only mildly bothered by that. As much as he disliked the feeling of being watched, he doubted there was anything they could say to make matters worse. 

The few moments he spent alone before Fiske arrived felt the longest of his life, even worse than waiting for the results of the mutation back in Amy’s lair. This time he knew for certain that everything wouldn’t be alright. 

The door opened and Fiske stepped inside. Hill had been right when describing the man. He had black bags under his eyes, his hair was messy and his skin had an unhealthy grey tone, like all the worries of the world had been dumped on his shoulders and it was proving to be too much of a burden. 

“Milord? Are you alright?” Bates asked. It was a dumb question, but it felt like the most logical way to start a conversation. 

Fiske sat down on the other side of the table without a word. Bates noted that his hands were cuffed. He felt irritated at that. Fiske wouldn’t hurt him. 

“Milord?” he asked again to get Fiske’s attention. “Is there anything I can --”

“What are you doing here?” 

The hateful tone the words were spoken in stunned Bates into a brief silence. Fiske was glaring at him from under his hair that kept falling into his eyes, and the room suddenly felt too small for Bates. Why had he chosen the chair that was not on the same side of the table as the door?

“I’m sorry, milord, but I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“How did you think I’d be doing? I lost everything because of that… that…” Fiske clenched his shut in rage and only snarled something incomprehensible, hunching his shoulders in suppressed fury. 

“Maybe some of the damage can be undone. I spoke to Mr Hill, and he was optimistic about our chances,” Bates said. 

“Do you honestly think I care about any of that? It’s meaningless! Everything became meaningless that moment when that blasted buffoon destroyed the statues!” Fiske snapped. He froze for a second, like he had only now recalled what had really happened, and collapsed on the table in a pathetic heap. 

“He broke my statutes!” he wailed. “I will kill him!” 

Bates glanced around the room, wondering where the camera was. This footage probably wouldn’t work in their favour if it was presented at the trial. 

“Surely you don’t mean that, milord. You’re only upset, and the stress has been too hard on you,” he said.

“What does it matter?” Fiske asked, lifting his head so that he could look at Bates. “My Mystical Monkey Power is gone. Everything is hopeless. I have nothing.”

“That’s not true! If we just get this business sorted out, you can go back to your research. You have your work. You’re still a master of Tai Shing Pek Kwar. You also have me,” Bates said, hoping that at least some of it would bring Fiske back to fighting spirits. He didn’t need the Mystical Monkey Power for anything. 

“Oh, just like I had you back at the castle? I trusted you, but you did nothing to assist me! Why, I might even think you were deliberately holding back!” Fiske snapped, suddenly consumed by his rage again and jumping up to his feet so that he could tower over Bates. The valet promptly changed his mind about the handcuffs.

“But, milord… It would have been wrong to kill him. If he had died --”

“If he had died, I would still have the statues and Mystical Monkey Power! I would still be able to fulfil my destiny! But not anymore, thanks to your utter incompetence!” Fiske snapped.

Bates felt uncharacteristic annoyance bubble inside him at Fiske’s words. Yes, maybe he hadn’t done everything in his power to kill Ron, but that was not something to be held against him! It was beyond unreasonable from Fiske’s part to expect his valet to succumb to such darkness, especially after the way he had been treated for the past year or so. Killing Ron would have been the worst decision they could have made in that situation, and it frustrated him to no end that Fiske was too stubborn or delusional or both to see that.

“I’m sorry, milord, but it was entirely your own fault,” he heard himself say. 

“What? How dare you speak to me like that?” Fiske asked, too angry to even feel surprised at Bates’s sudden switch of mannerisms.

“It wasn’t I who revealed everything to them before they had even asked anything,” Bates reminded him.

Fiske opened his mouth to retort something, but he suddenly found himself incapable of uttering a single word. He swallowed and blinked, as if seeing something clearly for the first time in his life.

“No. It wasn’t my fault,” he said stubbornly, but his weak tone wouldn’t have convinced anyone. 

“You have no idea how amazing it was. Mystical Monkey Power was the best thing that ever happened to me,” he muttered as he collapsed back on his chair. He held his cuffed hands before him and glared at them wistfully. “Such power… It made me feel like I could take on the entire world and do whatever I wanted. It should have been mine!”

“You don’t need magic, milord. You have accomplished so much without such tricks,” Bates told him.

“Don’t you dare try to make me feel better! You have no idea what I’ve lost!” Fiske snarled at him.

“Milord, just try to calm down…”

“No, I won’t! The statues were rightfully mine! I want them back!”

“But --”

“Shut up! You had your chance to help me, but you chose to betray me when I needed you the most! I don’t want to hear what you have to say!” Fiske snapped. He buried his face into his hands and shivered, making Bates wonder if he was going to cry or have a violent fit. 

He desperately wanted to say something to make it better, but he doubted anything would have made it through Fiske’s obsessed mind. The man was too engulfed by his delusions to see reason, and Bates realised that there was nothing he would gain by continuing the conversation. He motioned for a guard to let them out. 

“Don’t worry, milord. I’ll get you a good therapist,” he said sadly as Fiske was taken away, but his words didn’t do much to make either of them feel better.

“I don’t need your help! I want the statues back! I want --” Fiske raged, but he was cut off when the door banged shut.

Bates only sighed, wondering how it could possibly get any worse than this.


	18. Chapter 18

Bates sat in stunned silence for the entire duration of Lord Fiske’s trial. Even if he had tried, he couldn’t have uttered a word; too many impossible things had taken place, and it didn’t look like the end was getting near. By the looks of it, everybody else in the courtroom was just as surprised. The prosecutor looked like he was ready to have a stroke. Some of the reporters didn’t know what to write down, and even the judge had a disbelieving scowl on his face. It all reminded Bates more of an American courtroom drama than a fair trial.

Only two people were utterly calm when faced with what was going on. Charles Hill was the one who had orchestrated the whole thing, and he was having the time of his life shooting down every supposedly waterproof accusation from the prosecutor. Lord Fiske sat in silence and entirely emotionless, not caring much about what was going on.

“So, am I to understand that somebody sent highly classified and untested experimental technology into my client’s home and that you refuse to make public where this technology is coming from?” Hill asked the witness. From what Bates had gathered, this man was Ron’s mysterious contact who had made things roll smoothly earlier.

“I do not have the information, and my superiors at Global Justice are under no obligation to give it,” the man replied. “But I do know that the holographic version of Kim Possible was entirely harmless.”

“My client had no way of knowing that. In his place, everybody would have been suspicious of the guests,” Hill said. 

“Maybe, but Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable are highly respected crime fighters. I also hear Lord Fiske assaulted Ms Possible before he knew she was a hologram.”

“I haven’t asked you about that. What I want to know is whether you think it was unreasonable from Lord Fiske to attempt chasing the intruders out once their use of such technology had been revealed,” Hill said. 

“My lord, the defence is leading the witness. It has been established that Lord Fiske was not trying to chase Mr Stoppable out. He was trying to kill him,” the prosecutor pointed out.

“Mr Hill, please refrain from twisting the facts to suit your case,” the judge said.

Hill nodded. “My apologies, my lord. I only want to remind everyone that the only one who claims that Lord Fiske’s intention was to kill is Mr Stoppable himself, and he is working together with this secret organisation that doesn’t want its name involved or to share information relevant to the case. I also want to remind you that Mr Stoppable suffered no physical injuries, even though Lord Fiske is superior to him in terms of strength and is also a master of Tai Shing Pek Kwar, otherwise known as monkey kung fu. If he had wanted to do so, he would have been able to kill the boy,” he said.

“Lord Fiske has the perfect motive for murder. Ms Possible and Mr Stoppable discovered that he had been smuggling artefacts,” the prosecutor remarked. 

“My client pleads guilty to taking three of the jade statues with illegal means, but that should not be linked to the other charges. Like any gentleman, Lord Fiske would never take a life over something as trivial as this,” Hill said.

And so it went on. Bates watched with morbid fascination how everything was turned upside down and how their desperate odds started looking better minute by minute. Hill did a good job at convincing everyone of how stressed Fiske had been and still was, using even the Mystical Monkey Power and Fiske’s stubborn belief in it as proof. He claimed that seeing his precious research destroyed had upset Fiske so much that he was still unstable and incapable of clear thinking. The fact that Global Justice or someone involved with them had sent experimental technology into Fiske’s home when they had had no reason to suspect him of anything was another plus for them.

It might not have been that easy if Ron had been there to testify, but apparently he and Kim had gone to stop some supervillain from taking over the world. What Bates had said at the police station was mostly discarded, and Hill even managed to use Ron’s help against them.

“Mr Stoppable has said that Mr Bates did nothing during the supposed assault. If Lord Fiske had seriously tried to harm the boy, Mr Bates would have taken the necessary actions to stop that, just like any of us,” he had said. 

Bates had also had to justify on an earlier day, which had been a remarkably stressful experience for him. Hill had mostly asked him questions about Fiske’s mental state to prove that the man had not been in total control of his actions, but the prosecutor had been determined to make him admit that Fiske’s only intention had been to kill. Bates had replied that while everything had made it seem so, he couldn’t be entirely sure since he had no way of knowing what had been going on in Fiske’s head. It was a twisted truth, he knew, but when it came right down to it, he couldn’t make himself be the one who would decide the case in the prosecutor’s favour. 

He was immensely glad that Ron hadn’t been there to listen to it. Just imagining the disappointment on the boy’s face made him want to shrink in shame.

Eventually the lack of solid proof, Fiske’s good social status, previously spotless criminal record and the suspicions circling around Global Justice resulted in a considerably lighter sentence than Bates had even dreamed of. The attempted murder of Ron Stoppable was replaced with a simple assault of both him and Kim Possible, which landed Fiske with four months’ imprisonment that could be changed into a heavy fine if he so wanted. In addition to that, he would have to agree to go to extensive therapy if he wanted to walk free. The matter with the jade statues was a different charge and would be dealt with at a later time. 

“This is impossible,” Bates said to Hill as soon as he could pull the man aside after the trial.

The attorney smiled smugly. “Not at all. You just need to know how to twist the truth just enough so that it won’t turn into a lie,” he said. 

“But it was --” Bates started.

“Now, don’t start with any of that. If it cannot be proved, I don’t care about it. You should take your place by Lord Fiske’s side and help him through this, not try to ruin everything. By the looks of it, he needs you,” Hill said in a low tone and nodded at Fiske. 

The man had been staring into distance for most of the trial, lost in the sorrows of his inner world. The news of his sentence hadn’t cheered him up at all. Bates felt his stomach turn as he viewed the man’s decline. Losing the Mystical Monkey Power had sucked Fiske’s soul out of him.

Bates said nothing. He knew it was wrong of him to doubt the sentence, but at the same time he felt that this might be harmful for Fiske in the long run. Not receiving a proper punishment for what he had done would only feed his delusions about how he was somehow above everyone else. Thank heavens the Mystical Monkey Power was gone. Otherwise nothing would have really changed. 

“Milord, why don’t we go home?” he asked as he grabbed the man’s arm and started leading him outside.

Fiske glanced at him, his dark with fury. “Why are you still here clinging onto me? Haven’t I told you that I don’t want to see you again?”

“I’m sorry, milord, but it is either me or a doctor appointed by the court. They won’t allow you to walk free alone,” Bates explained, ignoring Fiske’s harsh words. It was understandable that he was upset, he told himself. Fiske would apologize to him later when he had calmed down.

To his surprise, Fiske didn’t argue about it any further. He fell back into his grim silence and only glared into distance before him. His lips moved occasionally, like he was muttering something to himself, but Bates couldn’t understand any of it. He only frowned in worry. 

They did their best to avoid the curious press that wanted to know exactly what had happened and why. Bates tried to dodge their questions or answer them with empty words, and he was immensely relieved when they finally made it to the car. His opinion of certain papers had hit rock bottom when they had started speculating about why an unmarried gentleman had had a young boy in his castle and why said lad had seen it necessary to call the authorities.

Bates glanced over his shoulder at Fiske’s form against the backseat. He was at loss at what to do. While he had spent most of his life serving Fiske and taking care of his needs, the instructions had always come from his master. He had never had to make any great decisions himself. 

“Milord, we will have to ring one of the therapists approved by the court,” he said. 

No reaction. He started the engine. 

“I was thinking that Doctor Morley might be a good choice. It would be wise to avoid people who are connected to the family,” Bates continued. 

“Milord, what do you think?” he asked after a few minutes of silence. 

“Do whatever you want. I don’t care.” 

Bates held back a sigh. Fiske was again acting like a spoiled brat just because something he wanted had been denied from him. If there was somebody to blame for what had happened to the statues, it was the man himself, but he would never admit that any guilt was on his shoulders.

“Do forgive me, milord, but I don’t think you’re going to accomplish anything by sulking. You could have at least thanked Mr Hill for what he did for you,” he said. 

“Hmm,” was all that Fiske would say to that. 

They drove the rest of the way in silence and finally arrived at the castle. Fiske dragged himself inside, and Bates was struck by the contrast compared to their arrival from Cambodia. His master had been so full of energy only weeks ago. 

“So, is it alright if I ring Dr Morley? He has a nice sanatorium in Weston-super-Mare. We should travel there,” he suggested a bit later. He had decided to serve tea to bring some comforting familiarity into the situation, but it wasn’t having the desired effect. Fiske was only holding the cup in his hands, not drinking or even looking at it. 

“I suppose that means yes,” Bates muttered when he got no reply. They would have to do something like that anyway if Fiske didn’t want to be arrested again and sent to an asylum, so he guessed he had relatively free hands with making these decisions.

The near silence returned, and Bates concentrated his efforts on listening to the steady ticking of the grandfather clock. He had used to enjoy the quiet moments in the castle because they usually meant nothing dramatic was going on, but now he wished something would have broken the eerie stillness. Even an enthusiastic rant from Fiske might have been better, if only to let him know that some part of the man’s personality hadn’t been buried under his misery.

Maybe this would be a good time to get back in touch with the rest of the family, he mused. Aunt Clarissa had actually ringed him to ask what in the blazes her nephew had thought when he had got himself into a mess like that, and Cousin Cecil had inquired if he could borrow Fiske’s research notes and use the Mystical Monkey Power in his next book. It was at least a start, and support from family could be what Fiske needed to get back in touch with reality.

“Doesn’t Eugene have his birthday coming up in two weeks?” he asked, referring to Cecil’s older brother. 

“I suppose,” Fiske said. 

“Maybe we should visit him. I read from the paper that his company is doing quite well these days, so he’s going to start repairing his father’s ancestral home. It might be interesting to talk to him about that and mention the trouble we had with the castle ten years ago,” Bates suggested. 

Fiske shot him a glare that revealed that nothing would have been more meaningless in the man’s opinion. He finally put aside his tea and stood up, ignoring everything Bates had said as he walked away. 

“Milord, where are you going?” Bates asked, but he received his answer when Fiske pulled the candle to reveal the entrance to the room behind the fireplace. 

“Is there any sense in recalling those events? Why don’t we just seal that entrance for good?” he asked and hurried to accompany his master, but Fiske stopped at the door and wouldn’t let him enter. 

“Leave me alone,” he said. Despite the tired look on his face, his voice made Bates freeze at his spot and obey. There was something commanding about Fiske, something that told him it would be better to do as he said. 

“Are you certain, milord? Going back to that room isn’t going to bring you anything but pain,” he said. 

“I need to mediate,” was all Fiske had to say about it. He closed the entrance after he had stepped in and left Bates staring at the fireplace with an empty feeling in his heart.

His thoughts were again turned to Ron and how the boy had demanded of him to make sure Fiske would never again try something as ludicrous. Bates felt a sense of relief at that Fiske hadn’t been locked away for most of his life, but at the same time he felt like he had betrayed Ron somehow. The lad had helped him, and he had paid him back by helping Fiske escape his just punishment. 

But nothing dangerous would come out of that, he told himself. In Fiske’s current state of mind, he probably wouldn’t bother going after Ron. Therapy would help him, and then he’d forget all about this insane business with magic and destiny. Maybe they could meet Ron again in the future and talk about everything that happened. 

He didn’t feel very hopeful about Fiske ever forgiving Ron for breaking the statues, but maybe he would on some level learn to understand that it had been for the best in the long run.

***

The castle had never felt so alien to Bates. It was like time had stopped for them and each time he glanced at a clock, the hands of it hadn’t moved at all. It took an eternity between the ticks. Yet the shadows kept growing longer as night closed in on them, and the valet found even his best efforts to light lamps couldn’t drive them away. He longed to build a fire, but Fiske had not yet returned from the secret room.

Bates had waited for him for a while but had then retired into the kitchen. Right now it felt like the only room in the castle where he could breathe. There were no monkey items there, and the soothing scent of various kinds of tea and bread made him finally feel at home. He had a teapot gurgling happily on the fire, though he had no intention of drinking any. He merely liked the sound. 

The kitchen was one of the rare spots of the castle that had good electrical lightning. Bates had switched everything on upon entering, and he was now sitting by the table and trying to fight his worries. It was reckless of him to have left Fiske alone for that long, but the man needed some time alone. Fiske had never been the kind of person who solved his problems by relying on someone else. He always had to do everything by himself. 

Someone might have been worried that the man could do something to himself in his depression, but Bates doubted that. Even before any of this magic madness had started, Fiske had always had a big ego. He loved himself too much to do anything stupid.

Other than forget to eat and drink, that was. Bates glanced at the clock. Fiske had now been downstairs for almost five hours. He would have to be presentable if they were planning to meet his therapist in a few days and hope to convince him that the situation wasn’t hopeless, so Fiske would have to start following a healthy routine that included food, drink and regular sleep.

Feeling more like a babysitter than a valet, Bates got up and returned to the lounge. He pulled at the candlestick to open the entrance and went down the stairs, his steps growing slower as he came closer to the floor. 

Fiske was sitting on the floor in a lotus position. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be deep in meditation, but his face was far from relaxed. Lines of anger and frustration marred his features and made him look like he was in a state of constant pain. 

“Milord?” Bates asked. He wasn’t surprised when there was no reply.

He wondered if it would be a good idea to break Fiske’s concentration or not. The man would no doubt be upset with him, but that was nothing new anymore. Supposing that there was no harm in at least trying, he approached the man with the intention of shaking his shoulder. 

Before he got more than a few steps closer, Fiske’s eyes snapped open. Bates took an involuntary leap back at the furious glare but quickly took a hold of himself. 

“You startled me, milord,” he said. “I was just about to suggest retiring for the night.”

“I thought I told you to leave me alone,” Fiske growled. 

“I know, but it is getting late. It won’t do you good to stay here.”

“You have a lot of nerve talking to me like that. I didn’t see you care about my wellbeing when I needed your help.”

Bates frowned only slightly. He had hoped that they would be past that topic already and that Fiske could have accepted at least that much that it had been right not to kill Ron and that everything could have been avoided if his decisions that day had been more sensible. 

“You may not see it now, but if I had helped you kill that boy, your entire life would have been ruined, milord,” he said. 

“Isn’t it already?” Fiske asked as he got up from the floor. 

“You may have lost the magic, but you still have --”

“Mystical Monkey Power was all that mattered to me! I worked hard to get it, and then it was taken from me before I had the chance to do anything with it! It was supposed to be my destiny, but it was ruined by that meddling idiot!” Fiske raised his arms above his head and clutched at the air and looking like he was strangling someone in his mind. 

Bates backed a step at this. “Calm down, milord, and be reasonable. You still have your mutated hands and feet,” he said. It was probably wasn’t a good idea to remind Fiske of how much all of this was his own fault, but there wasn’t really that many topics that might make him feel better. 

“And what good are they going to be if I no longer have Mystical Monkey Power? Without it I am only half a man!” Fiske barked. “I thought at least you’d understand! But no matter, there is still revenge. I will find Ron Stoppable, and when he least expects it, I will kill him. I will make it slow and painful so that he’ll know what he has done to me and beg me for mercy, and then --” 

“I think it’s time to go to bed now, milord,” Bates said, but Fiske continued his rant without paying any attention to him. 

The valet didn’t know where he found his sudden courage, but he approached Fiske with new determination. His Lordship needed help, and at the moment there was nobody but him who could give it. 

“How dare you speak to me like that? I am your master!” Fiske shoved Bates’s hands aside when the valet tried to grab his arm. 

“Milord, you aren’t being rational,” Bates said. He had trouble understanding how it could have come to this. Fiske was acting like he was beyond reason, which was a complete opposite of his earlier behaviour. Even at his maddest moments, he had always had a clear goal and there had been some sense, no matter how twisted, in his actions. 

Maybe that was the problem. Now that Mystical Monkey Power was gone, everything that Fiske had worked to achieve for the past years had crumbled to nothing. He probably saw no hope or purpose in anything anymore. He could do nothing but lash out without a target and blame everything on somebody else.

“And now you’re calling me crazy again. You saw Mystical Monkey Power with your own eyes, so I’d expect at least you to understand me,” Fiske said. “But no, you’ve decided to betray me as well.”

“Understand what, milord? It’s a pity that it didn’t go like you had planned, but there is nothing to be done about that. We should forget all about this and concentrate on the future,” Bates said, his voice growing frustrated to match Fiske’s anger. 

“Why do you think I have any interest in the future now that my destiny is lost to me?” Fiske asked.

Alright, this was it. “I’m very sorry, milord, but I think this is about enough. You need to sleep. Hopefully you’ll see things differently in the morning,” Bates said. Fiske retreated in shock at his uncharacteristic behaviour and glared at him with eyes that demanded answers.

“What makes you think you can treat me like this? You’re my valet!” he snapped. 

“Exactly, and part of my duties is taking care of your wellbeing when you’re incapable of doing it yourself,” Bates replied. He reached out with his hand to grab a hold of Fiske’s arm. He didn’t really want to get physical, but he doubted mere words could get through to the man anymore. 

“Don’t you dare touch me!”

“Milord, you’re being childish. I --”

Smack!

The next thing Bates knew was that he couldn’t see a thing from the bright light that had suddenly erupted before his eyes and that he was no longer standing. It was like the floor had suddenly shifted and made him fly against the wall. 

His hand flew up to his face, but he was too shocked to even feel the pain. He could barely begin to comprehend what had happened. Fiske had hit him. He tried to talk, but nothing intelligent came out of his mouth. 

“Get out if you know what’s good for you,” Fiske growled. He stood crouched, absent-mindedly rubbing his hand and glaring at Bates from under his ruffled hair. The valet searched Fiske’s face for any signs of regret or sanity, but the broken madman he was looking at bore no resemblance to the master he had once served. 

It was then that he recalled a fact that he had never paid much thought to because it hadn’t concerned him. Lord Fiske was a master of Tai Shing Pek Kwar. The right side of Bates’s face was burning like it had been smacked with hot iron, but the man could easily do much more to him if he so wanted. He hurried up to his feet, stumbling a little and having to lean against the wall for support. 

He wanted to say something so that they could talk, but looking at Fiske’s furious eyes, Bates found that he was suddenly afraid of him. It was partly his instincts that made him dash out, stagger up the stairs and run into his room.

***

Bates didn’t sleep much that night. He sat on his bed in the dark, unable to even attempt falling asleep. The pounding pain in his face was a nuisance, but what really kept him from closing his eyes was an entirely different kind of agony.

He couldn’t quite determine what he was feeling. He supposed that if he had had a son and that if said son had disowned him, it would have been something like the dull ache inside him right now. He didn’t mind the physical pain that much. The thought that Fiske had hurt him was the unbearable part. 

How could he do that, he wondered. He had always been loyal. He had always been there when Fiske had needed him, and their master-servant relationship has long since evolved into something resembling companionship. Bates was too professional to act like it, but there had been times when he had almost seen Fiske as a friend. Neither of them had any closer person in their lives.

It was tempting to push the problem aside and think that Fiske had simply been too upset to control his actions. It was probably true, but it didn’t excuse anything he had been doing or saying lately. Though it only added to his pain, Bates knew that it was perhaps time to accept the reality. Lord Fiske would never go back to what he had once been. 

The most obvious question was what Bates would do about that. He could have remained by the man’s side and taken everything in stride. If he had been asked about that only a few months before, he would have probably scoffed and declared that it was his responsibility to do so and never leave Fiske’s side. Now he found himself seriously doubting that. A life with someone who was that unstable and dangerous could not be worth living. 

On the other hand, his promise to Ron kept nagging at him. He had said that he wouldn’t let Fiske hurt anyone ever again. If he left the man alone, there was no predicting what he could do if he decided that all he had left was having revenge on Ron. If Bates remained, maybe he could keep that from happening, even if it was at the expense of his own happiness. 

Some time during the night he fell into troubled sleep, but it didn’t last for long. As was usual for him, he woke up together with the sun and crawled out of his bed. It took a while before he recalled why his face was hurting that much and why he was so tired, but as soon as he did, a chill went through him and banished all thoughts from his mind, save for one.

What was Lord Fiske doing at the moment? Was he still downstairs mourning his loss, or had he managed to drag himself into bed for the night? Bates felt reluctant to leave his room because he didn’t know what he could possibly say to his master after what had happened, but at the same time he was anxious to know where they stood. If he only had had someone with him so that he wouldn’t have to face everything alone. 

He got dressed and headed for the lounge. He passed a mirror as he walked and cringed at the purplish bruise that was forming on his face. It was painful to the touch, but he didn’t think the bone had cracked. It was a small wonder, considering how angry Fiske had been at him. 

Everything looked the same when he arrived at the lounge. The entrance to the secret room remained open like he had left it. He reluctantly walked to the stairs and tried to hear if Fiske was doing anything downstairs. Bates was just about to take the first step when a sudden sound distracted him.

It was the doorbell. At first he was too surprised to react. Why would anybody want to see them now? Then he realised that they could be reporters, and for a moment he considered ignoring whoever was at the door. Then he reasoned that even if they were the vilest tabloid journalist in the history, hiding would probably do more damage than good. 

“Yes, may I help you?” he asked when he opened the door. To his great relief the man who was standing there didn’t look at all predatory. 

“I have a large delivery for Lord Fiske,” the man said and pointed a thumb at his van. He lifted his brows a little at Bates’s face but didn’t say anything. 

“Oh, alright. I can take it,” Bates said. 

“I don’t think so. When I say large, I mean it,” the man remarked. He took Bates to the back of the van and showed him a massive wooden crate. One man would never be able to carry it. Bates even had to wonder if it would fit in through some of their doors. 

“What could possibly be in that?” he wondered.

“Beats me,” the delivery man said. “But I’m in a hurry, so if it’s not too much trouble, could we take it somewhere?”

“Of course, of course,” Bates said. 

It took the two of them a while to move the crate inside to the hall. The crate wasn’t as heavy as it looked like, but in the end Bates still had to lean against it as he gasped for breath and wiped sweat off his forehead. He signed the papers so that the man could leave and was left to stare at the crate in confusion.

“What could this be?” he wondered out loud and went to take a look at the delivery information. As soon as he saw where it had come from, everything clicked into place in his head. This was of course the ancient altar Fiske had acquired from his friend in Singapore. There had been so much going on in his life that he had entirely managed to forget about it. 

Bates doubted Fiske would be happy to see an artefact that was so closely tied to Mystical Monkey Power. It would only serve as another reminder of what had been lost. He frowned at the crate, now wishing that he had asked the delivery man to take it away. He couldn’t possibly move it alone. 

Looking at the size of the crate, he supposed that the altar was in parts inside it. Maybe it would be possible to take them out one by one. If everything went well, Fiske would never even have to know that it had arrived. 

Deciding that this was the best course of action, Bates went to find a crowbar and other tools he would probably need. He supposed he could hide the pieces of the altar somewhere outside until it would be possible to take them away – maybe while Fiske was in therapy. He knew that in the past he would have felt immensely guilty for even considering ruining the man’s property like this, but now there wasn’t a shred of doubt in his mind. Mystical Monkey Power had ruined Fiske’s life. The less he heard of it from now on, the better. 

He shoved the crowbar between two planks and pushed, making the wood snap with a loud crack. Bates froze for a moment to wait if the sound had attracted Fiske’s attention, but he resumed his work when nothing happened.

Finally, he got the crate open and could take a look inside. He had been right. The altar had been taken apart. It consisted of a large central piece, a round background and some sort of dark monkey ornament with paws that were clearly meant to hold something. There was also a thin metal box, but Bates had no idea what could be inside it. 

He gazed at the monkey for a moment. It wasn’t an ugly artefact and he was certain that Fiske would have been interested in it even without the Mystical Monkey Power connection. It was almost a shame that it had to go. In different circumstances it might have helped Fiske recover.

“What do you have there, Bates?”

Bates froze in the middle of lifting the ornament from the crate and almost dropped. He whirled around to face Fiske. How had the man crept up on him like that?

“This is… well…” he stuttered and helplessly raised the monkey so that Fiske could see it. The man’s eyes darkened as he recognised the piece. 

“I see,” he muttered. “I was wondering when it would arrive.”

“But we don’t need it anymore, do we, milord? We should get rid of it,” Bates said. 

“Was that what you were doing? Were you going to inform me of this at all?” Fiske asked. He pushed Bates aside and went to take a look at the remaining parts of the altar. He rested his hands on the sides of the crate, glaring at the contents in deep thought. 

Bates didn’t reply right away. He could tell that Fiske had guessed his intentions and he didn’t want to make the situation any more awkward than it already was. He was disappointed that Fiske had made no mention of his face, even though he had to have noticed the bruise. He probably didn’t care. 

“I thought you were asleep, milord. I didn’t want to bother you,” Bates said.

Fiske turned to snatch the monkey ornament from his hands. “It’s entirely up to me whether --” he started but stopped like somebody had punched him. His eyes turned to the monkey that he was holding, and he forgot to close his mouth as he could only stare at the item with a perplexed look on his face.

“Milord, are you alright?”

“Did you feel it, too?” Fiske asked, tearing his eyes from the ornament. There was a pleading tone in his voice that made Bates want to give a positive answer, even if he had no idea what the man was talking about.

“Feel what, milord?” he asked. 

Fiske shook his head. “No, no, of course you didn’t,” he said. He clutched the monkey against his chest and closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath. It was like magic. The worried and tired lines on his face melted away and were replaced by pure bliss until he was grinning to himself about something that only he could understand. 

“Milord?” Bates asked when he saw how Fiske’s shoulders started trembling with laughter that he couldn’t keep inside him any longer. The man’s eyes snapped open and Bates was startled to see the change in them. They were shining with such triumph and mirth that he didn’t think he had ever seen Fiske that happy and relieved. 

“It’s not gone!” the man announced. He raised the monkey ornament high so that he could look at it, and then pulled it back against his chest like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to see or feel it.

“What --”

“The Mystical Monkey Power! It’s not gone!” Fiske danced to him and shoved the monkey at Bates’s face, but the poor valet still couldn’t understand what was going on. He didn’t have much of a chance of asking either because Fiske turned abruptly away and stumbled back to the crate. He carefully placed the monkey back inside. Once the priceless artefact was safely out of his hands, his feet finally gave in under him and he collapsed to sit on the floor. 

“I cannot believe it!” he mumbled and ran his hands through his hair. He threw his head back as laughter took over him again and Bates could only watch him bask in his ecstasy and happiness. It was a drastic change to the angered man he had faced the previous day, but he got no joy from this development. 

“But wasn’t it lost when the statues were destroyed?” he asked.

“That’s what I thought! It was the logical assumption, but now that I held that idol in my hands… I could feel the power surge through me. Amazing, isn’t it?” Fiske babbled. 

“This altar is a blessing! Without it I might have never realised my mistake!” he continued. He forced himself to get up from the floor so that he could gaze at the contents of the crate with loving affection. 

“We must set this up downstairs. I can still fulfil my destiny after all,” he said. 

No, it was supposed to be over, Bates thought with dread. Maybe he could have handled a depressed Fiske who only wanted to lash out at the world, but he didn’t want to go back to how things had been on the day when Ron had visited them. Fiske had been entirely out of control and too consumed by his madness to even consider the consequences of his actions. 

“Do you think that’s wise, milord?” he asked. He felt like panicking, and only the years of controlling his feelings enabled him to remain neutral. If Fiske still had that horrible magic, there was very little he could do to stop him. 

Fortunately, Fiske was too high on this sudden triumph to get angry at anything. “But of course it is,” he said with dark glee. “Everything that has happened was merely a minor setback.”

He frowned as he suddenly thought of something. “In fact,” Fiske started with a thoughtful tone, “Ron Stoppable has done me a great favour.” 

“How so, milord?” 

“Can’t you see it? When he destroyed the statues, he didn’t take Mystical Monkey Power from me. He only assured that nobody else would ever be able to obtain the power. Now that the statues are gone forever, only he and I possess it,” Fiske said. His lips twisted into a sneer. 

“And that means that once I’ve killed him, only I will remain!”

“Surely you aren’t being serious? You can’t kill him!” Bates snapped. 

“Why not? He’s the only obstacle between me and my destiny,” Fiske replied. 

“Maybe it was part of your destiny that he should possess the power as well?” Bates suggested, desperate to say anything to make Fiske change his mind about this. 

Fiske laughed and shook his head. “Oh, you’re so amusing sometimes, Bates.” Then his eyes caught the sight of the thing box in the crate. For the time being, he forgot all about Ron and took the box into his hands. 

“Hmm, what’s this?” he wondered as he opened the mechanical lock. He produced an old scroll and carefully opened it for reading. “I think the monkey is meant to hold it.”

“What does it say?” Bates asked. 

“I’m not sure. I would need my notes to read this writing, but it does say something about a golden banana and… and monkey ninjas,” Fiske muttered as he frowned at the text, trying to make sense of it. 

Monkey ninjas? Could this possibly get any more insane? 

Fiske rolled the scroll back together and returned it into the box. “I will have to look into this at a later time.”

“Maybe you should forget about it for a while, milord. If it mentions something as ludicrous as monkey ninjas, it must not be very important. You should concentrate on other matters now,” Bates said.

Fiske lifted a curious brow at him. “Such as?” he asked. 

“Such as the therapy you have to go to if you don’t want to be arrested again. The authorities will want to know the details of that in a few days,” Bates reminded him. 

Fiske scowled at that. “Blast, I had already forgotten about that. I will have to come up with some sort of scheme to trick the doctors. I have no time to waste on such foolishness.”

“You don’t think it would be beneficial?”

“Beneficial? Why on Earth do you even ask that? We both know that Mystical Monkey Power is real. There is nothing wrong with me!”

Bates only sighed. Mystical Monkey Power could be real, yes, but it wasn’t sane in any sense of the word to attempt to kill someone because of it or lose sight of what was important in life. 

“And besides,” Fiske continued as he rubbed his chin, “I do like the idea of having minions. You aren’t exactly what I’d call a useful lackey in my future plans.”

“But monkey ninjas…” 

“Would be efficient and loyal. They would obey my every command never leave my side. I need companions like that,” Fiske mused. 

Bates’s heart sank. If Fiske got something into his head, he would go through with it no matter what. That quality in him hadn’t changed at all no matter how much his sanity decayed. 

“But how are you going to get monkeys here?” he asked. Many species were illegal to buy in the first place, and Bates doubted Fiske would ever get any sort of permission for the other species after the stunt he had pulled with Ron. 

But Fiske didn’t seem bothered by reality. He smiled at Bates. “Isn’t that what friends are for? I think it’s about time we invite Nigel for that dinner you’ve been pestering me about.”

***

And so it was done. Fiske called Abercroft and asked him to come over whenever he had the time, which turned out to be the very next day. Bates supposed that the old man didn’t have much to fill his life with, so he had to be overjoyed to hear from Fiske after all this time.

It was only then that the valet realised that he wasn’t alone, after all. Abercroft was a sensible man who had the courage to oppose Fiske when he was being idiotic. He had to be aware of the trouble Fiske had got himself into, and surely he would do everything in his power to help once Bates told him how serious the situation was. The only problem was how he’d be able to pull Abercroft aside and talk to him alone. 

“Can’t you do anything about that face, Bates?” Fiske asked him as he was putting the finishing touches on the dinner table. 

“It’s hardly my fault, milord,” Bates pointed out, not bothering to look up from his work. 

“At least come up with a logical explanation if Nigel asks you about it,” Fiske said. He hadn’t offered an apology or even inquired how Bates was doing, so the valet supposed the man didn’t care at all. It didn’t come as a surprise to him, but it made him sad to recall times when his wellbeing had mattered to Fiske. 

“Naturally, milord.”

Much work had gone into ensuring that the evening would be a success. Bates wasn’t sure what sort of favour Fiske was going ask Abercroft for, but the fact that they were using the family silver spoke volumes of its importance. It would of course be about monkeys, but Bates couldn’t imagine how Fiske would ever justify such a thing to the old man.

“And don’t mention anything that might make him suspicious. He must not know what I’m really planning to do,” Fiske instructed. 

“I haven’t forgotten, milord,” Bates said. 

Fiske frowned disapprovingly at him, but didn’t comment on Bates’s increasingly lippy comments. Staying calm and playing his part well extended to him as well, so it was necessary to pretend that everything was like it had used to be.

Bates found himself opening the door a little later. Abercroft was all smile and glee when he entered, but the valet noted that he was leaning on his cane a tad more heavily and that there were new lines carved into his face. He immediately recalled how the man had seemed more tired than usual the last time they met him. Maybe his age was finally getting to him?

“Welcome, sir. Lord Fiske is waiting for you in the lounge,” he said. 

“Forget the formalities for even one evening, Bates,” Abercroft told him. “This is supposed to be fun.”

“Actually, would it be possible to have a word with you later?” Bates asked. It was abrupt, he knew, but they didn’t have much time before they would enter the lounge and be under Fiske’s eyes for the rest of the evening. 

Abercroft nodded grimly. “You probably want to talk about _that_ incident?” he asked and it was no secret what he was referring to. 

“Yes. I fear His Lordship is not as stable as he appears to be,” Bates said. 

“I will never understand what could have driven him into doing something like that. It’s like he suddenly decided to throw everything away,” Abercroft said sadly.

Bates felt an immense sense of relief at that there was finally somebody who understood him and agreed that everything that had happened was utterly insane. He would have liked to talk more to the old man, but that was when they arrived at the lounge here Fiske was waiting for them,

“Ah, Nigel. Good to see you,” he said in greeting. 

“You, too, though I had hoped it could have happened earlier. What exactly took you this long?” Abercroft asked and poked Fiske playfully between the ribs with his cane. 

“I’m afraid I’ve been terribly busy lately. I probably should have taken time to see you more often, but you know what it’s like when work takes over your life,” Fiske said, smiling pleasantly and inviting Abercroft to sit by the fireplace.

“Seems to me like it took over your mind, too. Just what the hell were you thinking with that stunt you pulled?” Abercroft asked as he took a seat. He put his cane aside and crossed his hands. The glare he was sending at Fiske’s direction was a striking opposite of the welcoming warmth of the fire.

To Fiske’s credit, his smile wavered only a little. “Well,” he began, “that whole episode was mostly a big misunderstanding.”

“That almost led to the death of an innocent boy,” Abercroft pointed out.

“I think I should go and see if there’s anything to be done in the kitchen,” Bates said. 

“Yes, that is probably for the --” Fiske started, but he was cut off by Abercroft. 

“Not so fast. This isn’t just fancy chitchat. Bates should be here because I want to hear parts of the story from someone who isn’t a master liar,” the old man snapped. 

Fiske hunched his shoulders and scowled in a way that made Bates think he might snap right then and there, but he only offered him a twisted smile. “But of course,” he said. The valet took a place behind Fiske’s chair, partly because he felt like he should have been on his side but mostly because he wanted to see Abercroft’s face when he spoke. 

“So, why did you try to kill that boy?” Abercroft demanded to know.

“I wasn’t exactly trying to kill him. I merely lost my temper after it turned out that he had come to ask me about the fourth jade monkey,” Fiske explained. “I admit I let it go too far, but I was worried that he would reveal the truth and ruin my career. Now that I think back to it, I feel horribly ashamed by everything I did that day.”

Bates couldn’t see Fiske’s face, but he could just about imagine the sorrowful expression that went together with that tone of regret. The man could be a brilliant actor when he wanted, and if Bates hadn’t witnessed his insane thirst for revenge with his own eyes, he might have been fooled. 

Abercroft shook his head to himself, not buying into it either. He didn’t press the point any further but changed the subject. “And why did you think it would be a good idea to steal those statues? You’re a small celebrity in the archaeological circles! You could have received excavation permissions in no time!”

“That was another mistake I made, I’m afraid,” Fiske admitted. “I thought I was on the trail of a sensational discovery, so I didn’t want to let anyone know about it.”

“And you just had to make all your mistakes at the same time, Monty-boy,” Abercroft muttered with a sigh. He spent a moment staring at his hands as he pondered something. 

“I think everything you did was absolutely despicable and it’s a shame that you’re getting off the hook like this. If you’re anything like your father, you aren’t going to learn anything from this. Maybe they should have locked you up for a decade or two,” he said. 

“In that case I think social visits like this would have become more scarce,” Fiske commented dryly. 

“Would it have been such a change? Both times you wanted to see me in the past years were because you needed something from me. I have my suspicions that it’s the case this time as well.”

“Well, in fact --”

Abercroft silenced Fiske’s hopeful attempt to change the subject with a wave of his hand. “I also have something to ask of you, but we’ll talk about that later.”

Fiske shrunk back against his armchair with a frustrated sigh. “Then what do you want to discuss?” he asked.

“Magic. You can’t seriously believe in that sort of nonsense? I can understand men who kill, but to lose one’s sense of reality is an entirely different matter,” Abercroft said. Bates saw how Fiske’s hands gripped the arms of the chair at the words, but the man was able to control himself. 

“Magic is an intriguing concept, but nothing beyond that. My lawyer coloured the truth a little in order to get me free,” he explained.

“That’s not what I heard of your behaviour in prison,” Abercroft pointed out. 

That was too much for Fiske to take. “And what gives you the right to look into my business like this?” he snapped and leaned forward, like he was about to leap from his chair at the slightest provocation.

“Nothing. I’m only doing it because somebody has to look after you and Bates is too fundamental to do what is necessary,” Abercroft replied. Bates flinched at this, all his guilty doubts returning to his mind. If he just had stepped in earlier, maybe they wouldn’t be here now.

"I'm not a child! I can take care of myself!" Fiske protested.

"Then why are you acting like a complete fool? Why would do all this and ruin your life? If you aren't insane, then you're very, very stupid," Abercroft threw back at him. Though his voice was just as angry as Fiske's, Bates thought he could detect some worry in it as well. He though the old man had an almost panicked expression on his face, only intensified by the way the fire made his eyes shine.

Fiske had nothing he could say to that if he didn't want to make Abercroft even more suspicious of him. Bates found himself wishing that the man would have blurted out something about destiny or the insignificance of everyone who was on his way, but Fiske had more self-control than that. Maybe he had learned his lesson after what had happened with Ron. He leaned back in his chair with a frustrated sigh. His eyes were lost in the shadows on his face.

"I already told you it was all a mistake," he said slowly. "The thrill of my discovery blinded me."

"Yes, I know that story," Abercroft muttered.

They sat in silence for a long time. The flames in the fireplace felt more intense and hotter now. Bates had to shift uncomfortably, wondering if he was only imagining it. The two other men didn't seem bothered at all. Maybe they were too focused on staring at each other.

Finally, Abercroft pointed at Fiske's hands. "And what sort of idea was that supposed to be?"

"Oh, this?" Fiske asked lightly and lifted his hands so that he could better look at them. "Just some simple genetic mutation. It may look a tad unorthodox, but the benefits easily overshadow the peculiar appearance."

"I read in your file that you had yourself mutilated in some way. I wasn't exactly expecting this," Abercroft said. He was eying the altered hands with mild interest on his face. It occurred to Bates that this could be something the adventurous man might actually appreciate.

"I fear this is not going to be widely accepted, but I assure you it is very useful," Fiske said.

"For a trapeze artist, maybe," Abercroft said, but his tone was now more frustrated than angered. Bates wondered if the old man was feeling the same helplessness he was. No matter what they did or said, Fiske wouldn't change his mind about anything.

"Is there something more you wish to say about this ordeal? If not, I suggest we move on to dinner. Bates's efforts shouldn't go into waste," Fiske said.

"I suppose there is nothing I can say anymore. I'm not your father. Just… just promise me that you won't do anything like this again. Far better men have met a tragic end when they've let their delight lead them," Abercroft replied, looking at Fiske with eyes that were pleading him to be convincing, even if he was going to lie.

"But of course," Fiske said with a pleasant smile. "All of this is a thing of the past. In fact, I have already set my mind on another project."

"Oh? And what is that?" Abercroft asked slowly. He was no doubt wondering what Fiske could possibly do now that his reputation and career had been shattered.

"I found some of my father's old notes on monkeys and their social life. I would be very interested in trying to raise a small pack," Fiske replied.

"Where?"

"Why, right here."

Abercroft released a chortle. "At the castle? Are you insane? They will ruin it. You of all people should know that monkeys aren't pets. How do you think you're going to get any? You can't just walk into a store and ask for a monkey."

"I was hoping that you might help me with that," Fiske said suavely, bringing the tips of his fingers together.

"Ah, so that's why you invited me. I was wondering what you might want this time," Abercroft said. Though he tried to smile slyly as he said the words, it wasn't quite convincing enough to hide his hurt.

"It is not merely that," Fiske assured good-naturedly. "I regret to say so, but in the middle of searching for the statues, having my hands and feet done and now this mess, I haven't had the time for much else."

"Fine, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt that this is not just using an old fool to your advantage, but it doesn't make me any less worried about you. You should be focusing on repairing all this damage, not playing with monkeys," Abercroft retorted.

"Don't worry. I know exactly what I am doing," Fiske said.

"You realise that acquiring monkeys like that won't be easy even for me," Abercroft said, making an impatient gesture with his hand.

"I naturally won't demand it of you if it'll cause you trouble. But it would be a shame if I couldn't start working on this. My father's notes are highly fascinating, I assure you," Fiske said.

"Might I take a look at them? I can't recall Gregory ever speaking of this to me," Abercroft said.

"But of course. Bates can bring them over after dinner."

Up until now Bates hadn't been sure if such notes even existed, but he supposed that they had to be real if Fiske was willing to let someone see them. If he had truly gone through his father's archives to find this innocent motive, the man had planned the whole plot with more care than he had first realised.

The rest of the evening offered him no surprises. Fiske and Abercroft further discussed what had happened and what Fiske would do now, and spent a great amount of time going over the old notes Bates brought them from Fiske's study. He tried to stay in the background as much as he could and keep an eye on the two, but it was turning out to be more and more difficult as the evening grew older.

Though Abercroft had been suspicious and angry first, he was quickly buying into Fiske's suave explanations and promises. Bates supposed it was a comfortable option to let go of all the doubts and believe that there was nothing wrong with the man. He couldn't do it anymore after everything he had seen, but he couldn't push back the longing he felt when he viewed the scene. He wanted to be part of it. It broke his heart to see his master like that, smiling and chatting, laughing a little when Abercroft brought up something form the past. He was so normal and casual. This was the Lord Fiske he had known and cared about, and it was painful to know that it had become nothing but a mask to hide the insanity lurking in his mind.

"I had no idea your father had such detailed plans for such research," Abercroft was saying as he slowly turned the pages of the small book.

"He must have been planning to conduct it after returning from Brazil," Fiske said.

"True. Such a shame that this went unnoticed all these years. He should have told someone about this."

"Well, I doubt he knew he was going to die there."

Bates had no idea what this research was about, but it had quickly engulfed both Fiske and Abercroft. Their shining eyes, enthusiastic gestures and cheerful voices made them look like children at an amusement park. He watched the old man's growing interest with worry, knowing that it would be hard to have him see the truth after this.

And then the evening was over. Abercroft agreed to see what he could do about the monkeys, much to Bates's disappointment. Ignoring Fiske's suspicious glare, he volunteered to lead the old man to the door so that he could talk to him in private.

"Sir, I don't think it's wise to give into His Lordship's demands," he said as soon as they were alone.

"I know. It's a little unorthodox, but couldn't you see how excited he was about that? I think it might do him good to take a little distance to archaeology and what has happened. Continuing his father's work is perfect for that," Abercroft said.

"He is obsessed with monkeys. This is only an excuse not to let go of that," Bates said.

Abercroft lifted a brow at him. "What could he do? Do you think he's going to hurt them?"

"No, but I think he should forget about them altogether. With all due respect, sir, I think he tricked you," Bates said.

"You think he's insane, then." Abercroft pursed his lips in thought and regarded Bates with a long stare that made the valet shift uncomfortably from one foot to another.

"Yes," he admitted.

"Maybe he has changed," Abercroft admitted, "but I think you're worrying too much. I could see his enthusiasm when we talked about the research. I want him to be happy."

"So do I, but -"

"And I know that what he did was inexcusable, but he seems to regret it. God knows Gregory and I did some horrible things back in the day. I can forgive him," Abercroft continued.

Bates opened his mouth to argue against this, but one look at the old man made him change his mind. He looked fragile in the dimness of the hall and Bates suddenly got the feeling that a single gust of wind could have made him fall over. Abercroft had been lured into Fiske's trap, and nothing would make him change his mind if he didn't see Fiske's insanity himself – and he wouldn't since Fiske was too careful to make any mistakes as long as he still needed the man.

Abercroft chuckled. "I do admit that I have selfish motives as well," he said as he walked out the large doors. His driver was already waiting there.

"The thing is, I am horribly lonely. Most of my family and friends are dead and the rest don't want to have much to do with me," the old man said.

"Sir, you shouldn't say that," Bates said. Seeing the man he had respected all his life speak in defeat made him feel sick. Was there anyone who didn't need help at the moment? Even worse, how could he ever tell Abercroft that his trust in Fiske was entirely misplaced?

Abercroft took a moment to consider something. "You know what. I'll let you in on a small secret, but don't tell Monty. I don't want him to know about it," he said.

"I'm not sure I can make such promises if they clash with His Lordship's best interests, sir," Bates said.

"Oh, don't worry. This isn't about him. It's about me. You see, I'm dying."

Bates blinked. "What?" he asked. No, that couldn't be. Abercroft had always been there, sometimes even when nobody had wanted him to. This had to be one of his horrible jokes. He searched the man's smiling face, but it was hard to tell when he was being serious.

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed. I'm not exactly in my prime anymore, and it's getting worse every day," Abercroft huffed. He tapped the ground with his cane for emphasis, and Bates recalled those times when he had wondered about when the man had started using it for real.

"But, sir… I," he stuttered, his mouth refusing to produce anything intelligent.

"Can you believe it? I spend my whole life exploring rainforests and battling wild animals and then I die of cancer. Rotten luck, I say," Abercroft said. He waved at his driver to let him know that he was coming and adjusted his scarf a little.

"I'm terribly sorry, sir," Bates finally said. How was he supposed to react? He wasn't close to Abercroft, and it was saddening to imagine that the only man who still kept in touch with Fiske and could have helped him would be gone soon.

"Don't be. It's about time I go. In a year or two I'll be so pumped up with drugs that I won't even know it when I hit the bucket," Abercroft said light-heartedly. Then all signs of smile vanished from his face and he clutched his cane more tightly.

"But until that, I don't want to be alone. Maybe Monty only wants to see me when he needs something, but that's good enough for me," he said.

"Sir -" Bates started, but Abercroft interrupted him with a wave of his hand.

"Now, don't look like that. You have no reason to feel bad," he said and started walking down towards the car.

"Goodnight, Bates," he called over his shoulder.

Bates wanted to run after him, but he remained rooted to his spot. All hopes of Abercroft helping him with Fiske had been shattered. He no longer even thought it was a compelling idea. If the old man wanted to spend his last moments believing that everything was fine with Lord Montgomery Fiske, Bates wasn't going to be the one to reveal the truth about the Monkey Fist creature and bring him even more pain.

With a heavy heart, he watched how the car's lights disappeared into the darkness. He now felt utterly alone.

***

It took three weeks before the monkeys arrived. Fiske spent that time meeting regularly with his therapist, sweet-talking the man into believing that he was making remarkable progress with his problems.

"I am about to acquire some pets," he had said one time with a smirk.

"Ah, an excellent idea. The company of animals can be immensely soothing for one's nerves," the therapist had replied.

Bates couldn't remember where he had read it, but he recalled a passage about how those who were truly sick were also the best at pretending to be normal. It couldn't have been truer in Fiske's case. He had tried to talk to the therapist about that, but the man had snapped at him that he didn't need a layman to tell him how to do his job.

Those three weeks weren't exactly hard on him because Fiske was starting to ignore him, spending more and more time alone in the secret room. He no longer saw it worth it to wear his clothes when he wasn't trying to keep up an appearance, nor was he interested in even acting like a human anymore. The hunched figure clad in ninja garb and using his feet for everything he could was nothing like the old Fiske. That he could so easily switch between the two was even more unsettling.

"I want you to keep away from the monkeys as much as you can. They need to respect me as their leader," Fiske told him as he was opening the wooden crate with air holes in it.

"Nothing would make me happier, milord," Bates said. He dreaded the idea that animals would be allowed to roam the castle, touch everything and make a mess wherever they went. It was the ultimate insult to the ancestral home.

It had crossed his mind that maybe it would be the best for everyone if he left. He was clearly not needed anymore, and to Fiske it was probably irrelevant whether he stayed or not. He couldn't be happy as long as he lived at the castle and watched how the man sank deeper into his bizarre obsession. There was nothing he could do about that anymore. Only his old loyalty had kept him in Fiske's service so far, but that was also growing weak.

Confused and angry shrieks emerged from the crate when Fiske opened it. One monkey peered out and took a glance at the room. The animal was soon joined by three others. The bravest one climbed out of the crate and took a few steps around, but it did not dare come close to Fiske or Bates.

"Aren't you going to do anything, milord?" Bates asked. From what he had gathered, these monkeys were wild and had never had much human contact. It would be insanity to just let them go free.

Just as he had finished this thought, one of the monkeys started climbing up the curtains with wild shrieks. This encouraged the others to start their own displays of chaos and soon enough all four were jumping and running around, knocking over the furniture and pulling down paintings.

"Milord, this is absurd! They will ruin the room!" Bates snapped, but Fiske only glanced at him knowingly.

"What are a few worthless trinkets? I know what I'm doing," he said. He watched the monkey mayhem for a few moments, ignoring how Bates winced every time something valuable came crashing down. Finally, Fiske clapped his hands together and walked closer to the panicked monkeys.

"That's enough!" he yelled and the animals immediately stopped to stare at him. One of them approached him slowly while the other three stayed back and stared at them uncertainly.

"I have brought you here to be part of my pack. You will surrender yourselves under my command," Fiske said to the monkeys. Bates wondered what good it would do to speak to them like that. They couldn't possibly understand a single word.

As if on cue, the leading monkey let out a screech and grabbed a piece of a broken vase. He hurled it at Fiske, but the man dodged easily. With a swift leap, he had rushed forward and pinned the monkey down against the floor. The animal screamed angrily and tried to paw at Fiske's arm, but the man wouldn't let go until the monkey had calmed down. Then he suddenly released his grip and let the monkey withdraw back to his companions.

All four were glaring at him with suspicious eyes, especially the one that had been assaulted by him. It was too fast for Bates to follow, but suddenly the monkey jumped at Fiske and tried to bite at his arm, but the man shoved the animal aside and sent him flying against the wall.

"I'm not having any of that," the man growled. "I can make it extremely painful for you all, so I would advise you to follow me. I promise you it'll be worth it."

This isn't going anywhere, Bates thought as he watched the scene play out. Fiske couldn't really believe he could win the monkeys over like that, could he? Even if he trained them for months and tried to mimic their facial expressions and cries, he still wouldn't be able to make them trust him.

Fiske and the monkey glared at each other for a long time. Bates kept waiting for another mad attack from the animal, but to his ultimate surprise the animal hunched down and let out a submissive wail. The others watched with keen interest as their previous leader joined them as just another member of the pack.

"Excellent. Now, follow me. We have much to do," Fiske said. He snapped his fingers and started leading the monkeys towards the fireplace and the entrance to the room behind it. The animals glanced warily at Bates as they passed him.

"Never mind him," Fiske told them.

"Milord, what are you going to do?" Bates asked. He struggled to understand how it could have been this easy, but the only explanation he could think of was the Mystical Monkey Power. Maybe it gave Fiske some way to communicate with monkeys and connect with them?

"What do you think? Teach them the way of the ninja, of course," Fiske said like it was the simplest thing in the world.

When Bates was serving Fiske tea some days later, he was greeted with a peculiar sight. The monkeys had formed two pairs and were doing something that looked so much like amateurish kung fu that Bates had to stop and stare at them.

"Impressive, isn't it? I wouldn't have thought they'd learn anything so quickly," Fiske commented as he took a cup of tea.

"How can they learn it at all? They're monkeys!" Bates said.

"And I have Mystical Monkey Power. When they accepted me as their leader, a connection was formed between us. They're far more intelligent and capable than normal monkeys," Fiske explained.

Bates turned his eyes back on the animals. It was true. They were moving in ways that looked unnaturally agile and precise for them. They were like little soldiers in training.

"What are you planning to do after they're ready?" he asked with an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. Fiske wouldn't have bothered to train the monkeys if he didn't have some sort of plan.

"I translated the scroll that came with the altar. It turns out that if the correct requirements are met, one can use it to contact a mystical monk and ask him for advice. I am certain that this is the key to finding the correct path to becoming the Ultimate Monkey Master!" Fiske announced.

"Fascinating, milord," Bates said in what he hoped to be a suitably interested tone. In truth this idea made his insides feel like they had been tied into a knot.

"Maybe you should visit Mr Abercroft again and thank him for monkeys," he suggested then.

"No, I'm far too busy for that. Nigel can wait."

Even before Bates entered the kitchen, he knew that there was something seriously wrong. There was loud chattering coming from the room and the unmistakeable crash of a broken plate made him hurry his steps.

What he saw made him freeze at the door. All four monkeys were wreaking havoc on his kitchen. Most of the cupboards were open, their contents sprawled all over the floor and the monkeys touching everything and making sure Bates would have to throw it all away with the trash. Broken cups and plates lay on the floor. Even his favourite mug had been destroyed. One of the monkeys was trying to play with electric oven.

Bates could only stare. The kitchen was his sanctuary, the only place where he could escape the insanity that had taken over the entire castle. Now these horrid little monsters had come here as well.

He grabbed a broom from the corner and tried to hit the closest monkey with it. "You vile creatures! Get away from here!"

All four monkeys stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at him. The one he had smacked on the head let out an angered shriek and jumped at him. Bates was entirely unprepared for the attack and fell against the counter as the monkey slammed against him and sunk his teeth into his arm.

Before Bates even had the time to scream, the other three attacked him as well, scratching and biting wherever they could. Bates tried to push and kick them away, but it seemed like the monkeys had dozens of hands and that he could never get rid of them.

"Get off! Get off!" he yelled at them, but they only responded in wild shrieks and more bites. Bates's hand flew up to his neck to protect it from the beasts and he tried to roll over to his stomach to avoid injury to his face. If he could only stand up, maybe he would be able to run or shake the monkeys off, but –

"Alright, that's about enough!"

It was over as soon as it had started. The monkeys jumped off him and formed a straight line when Fiske entered the room. Bates was left lying on the floor, panting and staring at the animals with wide eyes. He was bleeding from numerous cuts, but he barely realised this as he shakily got to his feet.

"They attacked me, milord," he said to Fiske, but the man didn't seem bothered by it.

"You aren't part of the pack, Bates. Of course they're going to distrust you."

"Distrust me? They were going to kill me!" Bates snapped. How could Fiske defend those monsters? How could he even stand to look at them? They were inhuman and evil and had no place at their home!

"Maybe you should stay away from them in that case," Fiske suggested with a dark glare.

"But look at what they did to the kitchen, milord! It's ruined! They shouldn't have come here."

"I asked them to make me some tea. Don't make such a fuss over it," Fiske replied.

"I could have made you tea," Bates pointed out.

"That's not necessary. My monkeys must learn how to handle such mundane tasks."

Fiske gestured for the monkeys to follow and led them out of the room. Bates was left standing in the middle of the mess, but that was hardly what was on his mind. He pulled a chair for himself as he felt his legs starting to give in under him and fell on it in a pathetic heap. He had to press his hands together to stop them from shaking.

The monkeys would have torn him apart if Fiske hadn't stopped them. He was certain of it. The horrible creatures hated him. He had seen the look in their black eyes when they had left.

You don't belong here. Go away, they had said.

He wanted to drink something to feel better, but one look at the destroyed utensils made him change his mind. As soon as he felt like his legs could carry him, Bates stormed out of the kitchen. There was no way he was going to spend another night with the monkeys without some form of protection.

He found his way into the old armoury where they had stored away swords, axes and other weapons of the family's more exciting past. He dug through a few boxes until he found what he was looking for, a long knife used by some tribes in India. Fiske's great-great grandfather had brought it back as a souvenir, but up until now Bates hadn't thought much of it. Now he was grateful that they hadn't thrown it away because the other weapons were too heavy for him to handle properly.

That night he checked twice that he had locked his door. He couldn't remember when he had last done it, but now he couldn't imagine going to sleep with the door open. He put the knife on his nightstand so that he could grab it if he needed it.

He tried to get some sleep, but he found he couldn't close his eyes. Maybe it was only his imagination, but he could swear there were quiet steps going back and forth at his door every now and then. Scratching sounds when someone tried the lock. Ooks. Whimpers.

Bates wondered if Fiske was twisted enough to make the monkeys break into his room as part of their ninja training. He took the knife into his hand, just in case.

Leaving the safety of his room was the last thing he wanted to do, but a handful of sleepless hours later there was no other option for him. He had to go to the bathroom, and he couldn't wait until morning. For a while he simply sat there, gathering his courage and wondering if this wasn't a really stupid thing to do.

"Oh, blast it," he muttered. This was his home as well. He could do whatever he wanted.

The knife firmly in his hand, he unlocked his door and took a peek outside. The hallway was eerily silent, and he couldn't see anything in the dark. A torch might be a good idea. He went back inside and took one, switching it on. The light didn't make him feel much better because he was now an obvious target to anyone who might walk in on him.

Did monkeys sleep at night?

He had almost reached the bathroom when a high-pitched sound caught his attention. He stopped to listen. It sounded like hysterical crying or a choir of screams. His curiosity took the better of him, and he switched off the torch.

Bates crept closer as silently as he could, grateful that the castle had stone floors instead of creaky wood. When he reached another hallway, he saw light pouring in from under a door. He could hear the sound better now, and he realised that it was neither crying nor screaming. It was laughter.

All his senses told him not to go on, but he had to know what was going on in that room. He tiptoed to the door and pushed it slightly ajar so that he could steal a glance inside.

Lord Fiske was standing on a table, holding a book high above his head and shrieking something incoherent about world domination, magic and how they would soon make everyone bow to their power.

"Once we have revealed the ancient prophecy, there will be nothing and no one in my way!" he declared. The monkeys were screeching at his every word and jumping up and down in enthusiasm. Bates hated it how intelligent they seemed and how fast they had grown attached to Fiske. Even now, seeing the insane gleam in Fiske's eyes and listening to his inhuman laughter, he felt a stab of jealousy that he had been replaced.

No, not jealousy. He didn't want to have anything to do with this madman. The feeling was an odd mixture of guilt, regret and even rage. How dare those monkeys drive Fiske even further down this path? What right did they have to come into their life like this?

But there was nothing to be done anymore. Bates couldn't stand to look at the horrific sight of what a monster Fiske had become any longer, so he closed the door as quietly as he could and returned to his room after visiting the bathroom. The echo of the mad chortles accompanied him on the hallways.

There was no point at staying at the castle anymore, he realised. He could do nothing to help Fiske. The man was too deep in his lunatic fantasy world to listen to reason. He also had no place in his plans, whatever they were. He was an outsider at his own home, and every moment he spent there was a danger to him.

They might kill me if I don't leave, he thought. Fiske wouldn't always be there to call off the monkeys. And even if he was, would he do it if he realised how useless Bates really was to him and how much he hated all of this?

He thought about his father and Fiske's parents, wondering what they would say if they knew what he was thinking. His father had always stressed that it was his duty to serve the family, and he had almost disowned Margaret when she had moved away with Thomas. Bates wondered if even his father could have held onto his loyalty in a situation like this.

There was no reason to feel guilty, he thought. Nobody would blame him if he left now. He had nothing more at the castle, and he had become a liability. His promise to Ron was empty. There was nothing he could do about Fiske anymore. The boy would understand. His loyalty to the family was also needless now. Fiske… Monkey Fist had thrown away everything that connected him to his past. Why should Bates keep hanging onto it?

The more he thought about it, the more his determination grew. There was really only one thing for him to do.

***

"Milord, may I speak with you?"

Fiske looked up from the book that was resting on his lap and frowned at Bates. "What is it?" he asked in irritation.

"I have considered the situation. I think it's better for all of us if we part ways now," Bates said, struggling to keep his voice even and glancing worriedly at the monkeys that were staring at him from the sofa.

Fiske's eyebrows rose to his forehead. "You're leaving?"

"Yes. I don't think there is anything I can do for you anymore. Your new companions are far more capable than I," Bates said. He couldn't quite keep the accusing tone away from his voice, but it was still a great achievement considering what he really wanted to say. He had decided that it was wiser to leave in peace and give Fiske no reason to get angry at him.

Fiske tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Abandoning your post is what some might call cowardice," he said, but he didn't sound upset. His voice was distant, like this was only a mere distraction that had forced him to step away from far more important tasks for a moment.

"You said it yourself that I'm not part of the pack. I will only cause trouble if I stay," Bates said.

"True enough. Do as you wish," Fiske said with a shrug and returned to his book.

Bates stood there for a moment. Was that it? Didn't the man have anything else to say to him after all these years? Not even a proper goodbye? He shouldn't have been surprised by it, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed.

He wondered if he should have said something sappy, but he decided against it. Fiske probably wouldn't appreciate empty words about what an honour it had been to serve him, and Bates doubted he could have brought himself to say it, not after the recent events.

"Well, I wish you luck, milord. I hope all of this will turn out to be worth it," he said.

He was already turning away to leave when Fiske spoke again.

"Just remember one thing, Bates."

"Yes, milord?"

Fiske put the book away again. His eyes darkened with suspicion as he glared at Bates. "You know many of my secrets. It would be better for me to simply kill you," he said slowly.

The monkeys shifted eagerly.

"I would never betray you. And who would believe me?" Bates hurried to ask, forcing himself to look at Fiske and not the animals.

"I don't have much faith in your loyalty anymore, but your second point has some merit. Nobody is capable of understanding my plans. And besides, soon it won't matter. When I have everything I want, the whole world will know about me," Fiske mused. He thought about it for a moment.

"I'll let you go. Consider it a reward. You have been useful for me in the past, after all. But if I even suspect that you've told about me to anyone, I will hunt you down," he said.

Bates only nodded. He almost ran to the door to get away from the room. Once safely outside, he stopped to wipe cold sweat off his forehead, but he didn't dare stay there for long. He supposed that the arrival of the monkeys had been a stroke of luck after all. Fiske was so enamoured by them that he no longer cared what Bates was doing. If it had been just the two of them, he might have felt like the valet was abandoning him.

He had finished packing hours ago. He hadn't been able to sleep at all after his decision, so he had spent the night putting away everything he wanted to take with him. There was much he had to leave behind because he couldn't take an entire life's worth of clothes and items with him, and he most certainly wasn't coming back for them. In a way he found it comforting that at least part of him would always remain at the castle.

There was no sign of Fiske or his minions when he walked to the hall. He stopped there for one last moment to look at the monkey paintings and the familiar sight of the room. It was odd to think that he would probably never come back, but he wasn't as saddened by it as he had thought he would be. It was a long time since he had been truly happy at the castle, and he knew things would get better for him when he left.

He was a little surprised by how easy it was. Once he had made up his mind, it was like a mountain had been lifted off his shoulders. He was free to do whatever he wanted, and while the idea was somewhat scary after having lived a secure life for so long, he was more relieved than sad.

The building alone was not something to be missed. All that he longed for was the past with Lord Fiske, and he had already grown used to that that it was never coming back. He doubted the dull ache would ever go away, and maybe he would always wonder if he could have done something differently. Yet he knew that he had endured much more than he should have. Even if his heart would never quite agree, his mind knew that there was no need to feel guilty about anything.

With that in mind, he opened the door and stepped outside, breathing in the fresh morning air.


	19. Chapter 19

It was a busy evening. A group of tourists from the city had arrived to marvel the moors in hopes of seeing some rare birds, so every room at the inn was booked. The local regulars were also present, jealously guarding their tables and making sure no outsider took their spots. 

Bates had just finished serving one table, and he was now leaning against the counter and enjoying his rare moment of rest. Evenings like this always took their toll on him and made his back ache, but he wouldn’t have traded them away for the world. He loved the buzz of life, the sound of conversation and laughter and the smiling faces of people. He almost couldn’t believe what a colourful world had been lost to him for all those years he had been serving Fiske. 

He didn’t think about the past very much. The inn and his family (yet again something he had missed and hadn’t even fully realised it) kept his mind busy. That suited him quite well because he didn’t want to recall those last moments with Fiske nor what the man had become. 

And yet the masochist side of him couldn’t let the matter rest. He kept an eye on international news and cringed every time he found something about the villain called Monkey Fist. Some of the news he read were so outrageous that he often had a hard time remembering that this was Lord Fiske they were talking about, not just any insane lunatic. He didn’t know why he kept collecting the articles. He knew there was no hope of his master coming back to his senses, and reading about his crazy antics gave him nothing but pain. 

Margaret, of course, was entirely oblivious to everything. When he had arrived, Bates had told her that Fiske was planning to spend the next couple of years travelling and visiting excavations in far-away countries and that they had both agreed Bates was too old for that sort of activity. He had made up a story about Fiske hiring a new valet and how he was too busy or out of reach to ring or write them. Margaret believed all of it, and Bates was determined to stop her from ever learning the truth. It would have hurt her too much, and it would have been needless suffering. 

“Hello there, William!” 

He turned around at the bright voice behind him. It was Nina, the young woman from next door. She had been helping around at the inn for a couple of years now.

Bates frowned at her. “What are you doing here? I thought this was your day off,” he said. For the first few weeks, he had been calling her a miss without even noticing it. Everybody had got a great laugh out of his way of speaking, but he had eventually learned to tone it down a little.

“It is, but I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to tell you the news!” Nina said, her face brightening with joy so that her freckled cheeks became flushed. 

“Oh, you didn’t…” Bates said, immediately guessing what this had to be about. Nina had been trying to get into university for a few years, but she had never made it. This year she had decided to try for one final time and if it didn’t work out, she would give up for good. 

She nodded as her grin widened. “I did! Can you believe it? Mum almost had a heart attack!” she squealed. 

Bates couldn’t help but smile as well. “Congratulations! What are you going to study?” he asked. He knew Nina had applied to at least three different universities and for a different subject in each. He didn’t recall anyone else whose interests varied from law to botany. 

Nina smiled mischievously. “Oh, you’ll like this. Archaeology!”

“Archaeology?” Bates repeated, his enthusiasm dying a little as he suddenly recalled Fiske bringing home similar news a long time ago. Of course, his acceptance hadn’t been a surprise to anyone.

“Yeah. I could hardly believe it, but I’m not complaining. I just love all that ancient history and myths and old relics! I sometimes feel like I could spend days just reading about something,” Nina babbled happily, not at first noticing how Bates’s smile slowly faded away.

“What’s wrong?” she finally asked with a frown. “Aren’t you happy?”

“Of course I am,” Bates hurried to say. “I just want you to promise to be careful. Getting too lost in the past can ruin you in the head.”

Nina giggled. “Oh, don’t be silly! You’re just teasing me because you know everything about archaeologists. When he gets back from his trip, I would really love to talk to Lord Fiske. He could give me great tips,” she said. 

“I’m sure he’d love that,” Bates said with a hint of sadness in his voice. Nina was too thrilled to hear any of this, so she quickly said goodbye to him and ran back outside where her boyfriend was waiting. At the door she stopped to hold it open for new people who were coming in. Bates opened his mouth to welcome them, but he found he couldn’t speak when he realised who was there. 

“I hope this isn’t a bad time,” Kim said as she stepped inside with Ron. 

“Miss… Miss Possible! This is quite a surprise,” Bates sputtered. He hadn’t seen them since that horrible catastrophe that had put the final nail on the coffin of Lord Fiske’s sanity. He hadn’t thought he would ever see them again, either. What could they want? 

Ron glanced around and looked suitably impressed by the inn. “Hey, this is a nice place you got here. It’s certainly an improvement to your previous job,” he said. Kim gave him a little nudge between the ribs. 

“If you’re looking for Lord Fiske, I’m afraid I have no information regarding his whereabouts,” Bates told them. 

“That’s not why we’re here, but we’d like to talk about Mon – Lord Fiske. It’s important,” Kim said, and the seriousness of her tone already sent shivers down Bates’s spine. He could almost guess what she had to say, but he didn’t want to let his thoughts travel that far yet. 

“We had better go upstairs, then,” he said. “You can go ahead. I’ll tell my sister that I’m taking a break.”

After a while the three of them found themselves in Bates’s small bedroom. Ron was looking around, as if he was trying to avoid Bates’s eyes. Even Kim looked nervous for some reason, which Bates found a little surprising. He had thought nothing would be able to shake her. 

“Alright, so what is this about?” he asked. 

Kim glanced at Ron from the corner of her eye. “I’m not really sure how to tell you this,” she started. The look of regret in her green eyes confirmed Bates’s fears right then and there. 

“Lord Fiske is dead, isn’t he?”

“Uh, yeah…” Kim looked startled for a moment and blinked at his boldness.

Bates wasn’t sure how he should have taken this news. It didn’t really come as a surprise to him because he had been expecting this for a while now. Every time he found a news article about Monkey Fist, he was always afraid of it being about his demise because it was inevitable that he’d follow the Fiske way of dying with the life he was leading now. In that way he wasn’t shocked, and he couldn’t say he was crushed either. Lord Fiske had been lost to him for years already, and he had almost learned to live with that. 

“We’re really sorry. We didn’t want it to end like this,” Kim said sympathetically, assuming that his silence was a sign of utter grief. 

“What happened?” Bates asked. 

It was barely there, but he noticed how Kim and Ron glanced at each other in uncertainty. Apparently this was not something they wanted to talk about. 

“I’m sorry, but we can’t go into the details. Lord Fiske was dabbling with powers beyond his understanding, and it’s better if that knowledge stays where it is,” Kim said.

“Isn’t there anything you can tell me?” Bates demanded in annoyance. He knew it was not their fault and that they were making the right choice, but he felt horribly left out at not being told everything that had happened. He had served Fiske for years. He had been the closest person in the man’s life. He deserved to know everything, no matter how serious it was.

“There was an accident at an ancient shrine in Japan. It collapsed and… Lord Fiske went down with it,” Kim explained. 

“There was nothing we could do. He was already gone by the time we realised what was going on,” Ron added. 

“And the body?” Bates asked. While it was often the case with incidents like this, he didn’t like the idea of leaving Fiske lying in foreign soil. No matter who or what he had become in his last years, he deserved to join his family at the mausoleum by the castle. 

“It can’t be retrieved,” Kim said with regret. “I’m really sorry we have to be so vague about this, but it’s for the best. All you need to know is that he’s not coming back.”

He’s not coming back. The words washed against him, and he collapsed on his bed when it felt like his legs could no longer carry him.

“We’re really sorry,” Kim said again, but Bates could tell that they were only trying to be sympathetic to him. He couldn’t blame them. After all the trouble Fiske had caused the two, it was no surprise they harboured no warm feelings for the man. 

“Thank you for coming to tell me,” he said. They had probably had to track him down to inform him of the news. He was even a little baffled by that they had thought of him in the first place, but he was grateful that they had seen the trouble. 

Kim and Ron took this as their cue to leave. “No problem. It was the least we could do,” she said at the door before the duo returned downstairs. For once Bates wasn’t bothered by the lack of proper goodbyes. He didn’t really feel like talking with Kim and Ron at the moment. He still felt ashamed for how he had acted when Fiske had received the Mystical Monkey Power.

Now that he was alone, Bates suddenly realised that he had no idea what to do. His mind felt numb, and he couldn’t focus his thoughts on anything. He supposed he should have felt grief and maybe cried, much like when news of Gregory Fiske’s death had reached them all those years ago. He did feel sad, but he couldn’t bring himself to be crushed. 

The painful longing he was feeling inside him now was nothing new. It had been there ever since he had realised that Lord Fiske had succumbed to his obsession and that there was nothing he could do to help him. If anything, this news again reminded him of how he should have done something more and been firmer with the man. All of this might have been avoided then. 

There was a knock at the door, and Margaret popped her head in. 

“I saw your guests leave just now. What did they want?” she asked. Bates guessed he had to be wearing some sort of blank or shocked expression on his face because Margaret’s next question was a worried, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

He realised all of a sudden that he was probably the only civilian who knew about Fiske’s death. The man had entirely isolated himself from his family and former friends, so very few people had made the connection between him and the insane monkey man they saw in the news every now and then. If he wanted, he could pretend that nothing had happened and let Fiske simply disappear until he was pronounced dead. However, he almost shook his head at that. It would take years for that process to go through, and he couldn’t live that long with such a weight on his shoulders. It was much easier and fairer to everybody if he told truth, or at least parts of it.

“William? Are you alright? Who were those people?” Margaret asked and came to sit by his side. He had to have been quiet for a long time.

“They are explorers. They brought me some bad news,” he started, not really sure how to tell her everything.

“Yes?” Margaret asked with a frown. 

“Lord Fiske is dead.”

***

Bates could hardly believe that he was back on his way to the place where he had spent almost his entire life. When he had last left it, he had been determined never to return because the castle no longer felt like a home to him. He was expecting it to have changed somehow, but when he caught the first glimpse of the towers when they were revealed behind a hill, it looked like he had never been gone.

“I don’t know how he could stand to live here,” Cecil Blaketon, one of Fiske’s cousins, said from the driver’s seat. 

“It was his ancestral home, sir, and it suited his secluded life,” Bates pointed out. 

“Or maybe vice versa. I don’t think he would have turned out such an egoistical loner if he had lived somewhere else.”

Bates said nothing, but in his mind he agreed. The castle was filled with happy memories for him, but most of them were from the time when Fiske’s parents had still been alive. Something in the castle had died together with them, and life had never really returned inside its walls. 

They parked the car as close to the castle as they could, and Bates stepped out. Cecil handed him the keys.

“I can’t thank you enough for letting me visit the castle one last time,” the valet said to the man. 

Cecil only shrugged. He had dark hair much like everyone in the family, but he had so much of his father in him that he didn’t really look like a Fiske. His nose was too straight, his face too angular and his eyes brown. 

“It’s the least I can do,” he said and hesitated for a moment before continuing, “Uh, by the way, Monty didn’t leave a will of any sort, so I think everything is going to the family. Sorry about that.”

“Oh, it’s alright. There’s nothing I want,” Bates said. The lack of a will didn’t really surprise him. It was perfectly in character for Fiske to think he was invincible, and he supposed that illusion had only become stronger when he had been consumed by his insanity.

“Good. Oh, and don’t tell anyone I let you in here. I think Eugene has already dubbed himself the new Lord Fiske, and you know how jealous he is of everything,” Cecil said.

“Yes, of course,” Bates agreed. It felt odd to think that there would be someone else holding the title and owning the castle soon enough. 

He had decided to share Kim and Ron’s news with the family, but he had been just as vague about it as them. He had told everyone that Fiske had had an accident while exploring some ancient temple in Japan and that the body had been lost. Not a single word about the Monkey Fist business had left his lips, and he was intending to keep it that way. They would mourn Montgomery Fiske, the respected archaeologist and scholar. There was no need to stain his memory by telling anyone what a monster he had let himself become. 

“Right-o, then. I think I’ll pop down at the town and try that pub we passed. Ring me when you want to get back. And you probably don’t mind if you have to drive home, do you?” Cecil asked. 

“Of course not, sir. And thank you again,” Bates said. 

He didn’t move to open the door until Cecil had gone. This was something he had to do alone. 

The main hall didn’t look any different from how it had always been. The same paintings were hanging on the walls, the same furniture was there, and it even looked like someone had tried to keep dust from collecting everywhere. It was almost comforting to be back, but at the same time the knowledge of how things really were made his heart ache. 

Bates opened the door to the lounge and immediately froze on his tracks. A horrible smell hit him, and he had to cover his nose with his sleeve before he could enter the room. It was a smell he recognised instantly; it was the stench of monkeys. He had experienced it more times than he cared to count when Fiske had visited zoos all over the world. 

He must have let them wander all over the castle like they were people, he realised with distaste. Things had already been bad when he had left, but he supposed that spending all his time alone with his monkeys had made everything even worse. How anyone could treat those monsters like companions was beyond him. 

Other than the smell, the lounge looked pretty much the same. There were some new relics and training poles standing in the corners, but not too much had changed. Everything was a lot messier than before, of course, and Bates made a face when he saw how much dark hair there was on the carpet. 

He thought about going to his bedroom to pick up the few things he had left behind, but he realised that he didn’t have the courage to pass Fiske’s study and the halls to do so. He didn’t want to see what had become of the inner rooms of the castle, especially the study. He wanted to be able to remember it as it had always been. 

Why did I even come here, he wondered as he sat on an armchair and turned to stare at the floor. There was nothing for him at the castle, and seeing how Fiske had lived the last years of his life only hurt him. To imagine that such a refined man had sunk so low and lived like a monkey in a pack… If he hadn’t seen it himself, he would have never believed it. 

He wondered how the family would react once they saw what had happened to the castle. He had told them of how Fiske had acquired a few monkeys and decided to raise them as pets, but he doubted they were prepared for what he was seeing now. They probably expected to find treasures, not dirt and worthless monkey relics. 

His eyes were drawn to the table by the armchair. It was so covered in books and letters that it was impossible to see the surface. At first he didn’t think there would be anything of interest to him, but then he realised that all the letters were unopened mail. Most of them were bills, but there was one letter that caught his attention right away. He had received an identical one himself a few months ago. 

“He could have at least opened it,” he said as he took the invitation to Abercroft’s funeral and brushed some dust off it. Then again, it was probably for the best that Fiske hadn’t shown his face and made a scene. It wasn’t like Abercroft could be hurt by it anymore. 

Another item that aroused his interest was a thick brown book. Unlike the other books on the table, it had no title or author, and it looked more like a diary of some sort. Remembering what he had discovered the last time he had pried into Fiske’s personal matters, it took Bates a moment before he could gather the courage to open it. It turned out that it wasn’t a diary. 

He found himself looking at a series of photographs, each of them showing Fiske – no, this was Monkey Fist – in the middle of exploring some temple or inspecting an ancient relic. Bates flipped a few pages and saw that the whole book was filled with such photos. He had no idea who could have made the collection, but he found such display of Fiske’s insanity horribly macabre. He stopped to look at a picture in which the man was holding a blue jewel and grinning in triumph. There was nothing human in the victorious sneer or the mad gleam in his eyes. His features were so twisted that Bates had a hard time recognising him as the man who had been his master. 

He couldn’t possibly let the family see these pictures or Fiske’s reputation would be ruined for good. Bates was already afraid of some nosy reporter or sensationalist arriving at the funeral and revealing the truth to everyone. He knew that Kim and Ron had to be working for someone and that there was no doubt a file about Fiske’s escapades, so he had no idea just how many people knew the truth. He could only hope that the small and modest funeral wouldn’t attract any attention. Maybe he should burn the photographs, just in case. 

The family hadn’t objected when he had suggested that there would be no grand public displays or obituaries. He supposed they were only too happy to spend as little as possible and save the family fortune to be shared between them. Even though Fiske had only himself to blame for the nonexistent sympathy his family was showing him, Bates couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction when he thought of everyone’s face when they would discover how little of the fortune was left. Spending everything on the monkey hands and feet had probably been a better use for the money, as Fiske had once told him. 

He tucked the scrapbook under his arm and decided that he couldn’t leave the castle until he had seen all of it after all. He dreaded the sights that were no doubt waiting for him, but he knew he wouldn’t get peace if he didn’t see everything for himself. It was also his last responsibility as Fiske’s valet to take away any evidence of his insane antics.

To his relief, at least the halls seemed to be mostly in their original state. The stench of monkeys was everywhere, but he found he was quickly getting used to it. By the time he arrived at the door to Fiske’s study, he barely noticed it anymore. 

The study had always been the most sacred room in the castle. It was where Fiske had spent most of his time and done all of his precious research. He had practically lived his life in that room. Bates liked to think that even in his insanity, the man would have loved the study enough to keep the monkeys away and let it remain in its original state. 

He pushed the door open and stepped inside. Sunlight was pouring in through the tall windows, creating a strong contrast between the room and the rest of the castle that seemed to rest in darkness. Bates sighed when he saw how tidy everything was. The books on the desk were in neat piles and the bookcase was alphabetically organized. There was hair and other signs of that monkeys had been let into the room, but he could ignore those and pretend that nothing was out of the ordinary.

He closed the door so that he wouldn’t have to see the dark hallway and took a seat by the desk. He didn’t dare sit in Fiske’s chair. The idea that anybody but him should sit there was outrageous.

His thoughts were turned to the numerous times he had served Fiske tea in his room and worried about the man’s lack of sleep when he was too captured by his research to notice the demands of his body, the times when he had stopped to discuss some matter with his master or simply offered his silent company. Though it had been only a few years, all of that felt like it had happened an eternity ago, maybe in some different lifetime or even a dream. 

He had seen Fiske grow from a boy to a man and had in many ways been the dearest person in the man’s life after his parents. They had been much more than master and servant, and Bates couldn’t help but feel regret for how everything had ended. It wasn’t guilt because he knew there was little he could have done to save Fiske from himself, but there was a knot of grief inside him that demanded to know the answer to the simple question, “Why?”.

After he had moved to live with Margaret he had often wondered if he shouldn’t contact Fiske and try one last time to change the man’s mind about everything that he was doing, but he had always lacked the courage. There had been nothing but insanity in the man’s eyes after he had proclaimed himself as Monkey Fist. Bates had learnt to fear for his life after the incident with the monkeys, and he was afraid of seeing that look in Fiske’s eyes again. It hurt too much to know that he was powerless to help. 

In that sense he supposed that he was almost relieved about the news of the man’s death. Montgomery Fiske had been lost for years anyway, and the death of Monkey Fist meant that he could finally rest in peace. A life of insanity and obsession could not be a happy one, so Bates supposed it was a good thing that it had finally come to an end.

The familiar chime of the grandfather clock in the corner woke him from his thoughts, and he realised that he had already spent an hour at the castle. Cecil was probably getting impatient, so Bates reluctantly forced himself to leave the study and return to the darker parts of the castle. He briefly visited his bedroom and picked up a few things, went by the kitchen (Heavens, what had the monkeys done there?), visited a few of the guestrooms (the favourite paintings of Fiske’s mother were still there, he was happy to note) and returned to the lounge. 

He wondered if he should visit the secret room behind the fireplace because that was most likely where the true signs of Fiske’s insanity were hidden, but the idea of going there alone filled him with dread. He had no idea what he would discover there, and he didn’t want to find out. Nobody but him and Ron Stoppable knew of the secret passage anyway, so he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to leave some things remain a secret. If anyone ever stumbled upon the room by accident, they would no doubt think of it as just another one of Fiske’s late oddities. Hopefully it would take years before that happened so no damage could be done to Fiske’s reputation. 

He had already said goodbye to the castle when he had left and gone to Margaret, so he didn’t linger around any longer. Now that Fiske wasn’t at the castle and would never return, there was nothing Bates wanted of the place anymore. He had a life elsewhere, and he was intending to enjoy his final years with his family to the fullest. 

With one more doubtful look at the fireplace, Bates hid the scrapbook with the photos under his coat and walked out of the castle that one final time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed the story of Monty’s descend into madness, I’m going to have to recommend the exact opposite, Spirit of Snow by PengyChan. It’s an awesome story of Monkey Fist at perhaps the height of his insanity and how much he ends up suffering and losing because of his own selfish actions before he can start on the road to redemption.


End file.
